#cause like. either he just trusted victor enough to believe him even after everything that happened...

[hyperfixation-or-death]

random thing i just noticed:

Episode 1: "Romane would never do that. Not without her sister, anyway. Never." - Vanessa, about the possibility of Romane having run away.

Episode 6: "And, listen. If you send him away, I'm going too." - Sam, about his parents' plans to send Victor to boarding school.

something. about. the two duos of siblings in Parallels. do not separate them.

[fandomfrenzy97]

Who You Are

A Hogwarts Legacy Fanfiction

Below Hogwarts, Ranrok and his followers had used a goblin-built digger to infiltrate the castle defences. Professor Fig and I arrived just as they were breaking in…however it wasn’t just goblins that we had to fight through, but trolls and spiders. When the heat of battle became too great, we discovered alllies just in time before all was lost, through Professor Weasley, Professor Ronan, Professor Hecat, Professor Onai and Professor Sharp, who had been informed by Professor Fig about the situation prior to gaining access to the location of the final repository.

Not long after, when the final repository was finally discovered after centuries of being hidden away, Professor Fig asked me what I was planning to do with the repository’s power, either:

1. Leave it where it was, untouched

2. Claim the power for myself

I realised that now that the location of the final repository was exposed and that the repository itself was potentially no longer safe, I had to the claim it’s power for myself to ensure that once Ranrok was gone, never again will Goblins rise from the ashes like a Phoenix reborn to cause more trouble for the Wizarding World. Besides, after all I’d been put through, constantly fighting for my survival by defeating Ranrok’s Loyalists and Victor Rookwood’s Ashwinders and Poachers, all the while slaving away as the school skivvy and hamlet hero (being a 5th year and all), for multiple students within the school grounds and numerous people within the highlands and along the coast, gaining whatever power Ranrok was willing to fight for seemed perfectly justified.

Heck, I even went as far as succumbing to the Dark Arts for the guy I fell in love with, Sebastian Sallow, by standing by him in attempting to find a cure for his ailing sister, Anne, because I believed in him and wanted him to be happy by getting the sister he once knew back.

With all that in mind, gaining the power of one of Isidora Morganach’s repositories was the least I deserved, after everything I’d been through, from the moment I got attacked by a dragon on the first day of term, to the moment I finally gained enough trust for the Keepers to grant me access to the entrance of the repository, just by completing all of their trials.

Professor Fig and I got close to the repository when Ranrok appeared, wielding the wand of Professor Fig’s late wife, Miriam. Whether accidental or intentional, Ranrok used the wand to break open the repository, unleashing its power. When he did so, he absorbed the mass of negative energy from within and it transformed him into a powerful red dragon.

Somehow I found myself defeating Ranrok (in his dragon form) on my own. I had cast the more effective spells I’d learned, used as many Chinese Chomping Cabbages, Venomous Tentaculas and Mandrakes that I could carry and even resorted to using as much of my Ancient Magic strength as I needed, just to strike Ranrok down. The battle was not an easy one, but I had succeeded in defeating Ranrok for good, stripping him of his dragon form and of his powers. Where one problem was solved, another one took its place…with Ranrok out of commission, the repository’s power, without containment, was loose and going out of control!

I knew that there was only one thing to do…I had to take the power for myself and save everyone. Just when I had my wand at the ready, Sebastian appeared. “Y/N! Don’t!” he shouted. I turned my head to face him. “Sebastian! What are you doing here?! You have to get out of here…NOW!” “No, I’m not leaving you, Y/N. I’d heard rumours that some of the Professors were heading down here to assist you and Professor Fig…I figured something must be wrong…I feared you were badly hurt…I had to come…despite everything that’s happened between us Y/N, I DO care for you…after everything that you’ve done for me, being here with you is the least I can do.” He said, while out of breath. “That’s very sweet of you, Sebastian, and I’m grateful and flattered, but now is not the time. You have to get to safety, so just get out of here while you still can!” I replied, in a rushed voice. “No, I’m not leaving you. I’ve pretty much lost Anne, I’m not going to lose you too.”

My eyes filling with tears, I said “And I don’t want to lose you too, Sebastian…I love you, I always have! I have to do this, there’s no other way! I’m so sorry.” I shouted as tears streamed down my face and turned my attention back to the repository’s negative energy. I raised my wand and began absorbing the powerful energy the same way Isidora once did centuries ago, my eyes glowing red, as more and more dark magic was being absorbed through the wand. “NOOOO!” Sebastian screamed. As I absorbed more and more of the repository’s power, I began maniacally cackling and laughing, “Isidora’s power is all mine!” “ Oh, Y/N. What have you DONE?” Sebastian said sadly, in somewhat defeat.

Once all of the repository’s power was well and truly contained, I guess the exhaustion of endless questing, Ranrok’s defeat and absorbing all of the repository’s power finally took its toll on me and I felt so lightheaded that I could barely stand, and I felt myself falling to my knees. “Y/N!” Sebastian shouted as he dashed towards me, catching my head and neck with one of this arms before the rest of me started to fall into unconsciousness. “Seb-“ I began muttering. “Sshh. It’s okay, my love. Don’t say another word. I’m right here.” He replied softly, as he caressed my face with one of his hands. “I’m getting you out of here, Y/N. After everything you’ve done for the school, for me, these past few months, you’ve earned some much needed rest. I’m taking you straight up to the Hospital Wing. Nurse Blainey can help.” And with that I felt even lighter as he picked me up and carried me in his arms as we left.

[littleoddwriter]

Replaceable | Roman Sionis x Male!Reader

Another vent fic. Two in a day, wow.

summary; You’re spiralling because you feel as though Roman will leave (kill) you soon, since it seems inevitable to you.

notes; TW // Fear of abandonment; Spiralling; Suicidal and Homicidal thoughts (quite brief, tho). Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Soft Kisses; Roman being assuring and sweet in a rare moment of him being a decent person.

Being all alone in the loft, it felt huge to you. It always did. More often than not, you felt as though you didn’t belong here, like you were just an intruder, waiting to be spotted and put back on the streets, where you’d be lost and looking for another place to stay all over again.

It’s been about half a year since you and Roman have started dating. You had moved in a month ago. Roman had insisted on it, since you’ve spent most of your time here anyway. Part of you still had trouble believing that he really wanted you to live with him. That same part was just waiting for the other shoe to drop eventually.

All your life, people have very suddenly replaced you, so effortlessly, as if you have never mattered in the first place. In a way, you were used to it, expecting it even. It didn’t make it hurt any less, though. Nor did it calm your anxiety over it.

You knew how easily replaceable you were, and you really couldn’t fathom just why anyone kept you around in the first place, only to toss you aside the second they found someone better. It was always the same. You never learnt from it either, and instead you kept trusting blindly, loving passionately – platonically and not – and you always believed unconditionally. It made you sick to think just how naïve you still were after everything.

Even more so, you just couldn’t comprehend why Roman Sionis of all people would date you at all, and ask you to move in with him on top of it. It had made you spiral and you had no way of stopping it. Doubts kept eating away at you, the feelings of inadequacy dug their claws inside of you, and your anxiety slowly but surely tore you apart.

Sometime soon, he’d leave you, kick you out – no, he’d probably just have Zsasz kill you. Or would he do it himself and grant you that honour, too?

Sighing deeply, you squeezed the fuzzy orange pillow, which you’ve been holding and kneading, tightly against your chest. It just didn’t make sense to you at all and it terrified you.

You loved him so much, more than you’ve ever loved anyone, and you couldn’t bear to ever lose him. Fuck, you almost wished he really would kill you when he’s had enough, lest you’d do it yourself when he’s left you eventually. It was a frightening thought process, but not an unusual one.

Tears pricked your eyes and your chest felt so tight, it got difficult to breathe. Past relationships of any kind and how they’ve ended by replacing you, kept replaying in your mind. Roman would end up doing the same – finding someone better than you and getting rid of you. You knew he would, and frankly, you couldn’t blame him one bit. Not him or any of the others before him.

Perhaps that was your purpose in life – being a fill-in for people to find the person they were actually meant to be with, be that as friends or more. Although, it didn’t make sense in this context because you knew for a fact that Zsasz was this person for Roman already. Maybe you were there to make Roman realise his feelings for Victor? You didn’t know, couldn’t possibly. Your mind was nothing but a jumbled mess of questions, possibilities, and cries of agony. Spiralling like this had you in immense emotional pain, hence why your chest felt as tight as it did.

In the end, you didn’t know how long it’s been, but Roman was suddenly in front of you. You looked up at him from where you’ve been sitting on the chaise longue. His head was tilted to the side, a curious expression on his face.

“What’s going on, baby?” he asked.

“My brain’s being a dick,” you replied honestly. It was no use lying to him, ever, it’d only upset him and you didn’t want to be cause for that.

“Aw, how so?” Roman caressed your forehead with one of his gloved hands, brushing your hair back, oh, so gently.

It made the tears come back, burning your eyes, which had you lower your head, not wanting him to see it. Fuck, you were so weak, so stupid. You were nothing but a burden.

“Because I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered brokenly. You hadn’t planned on giving him that response, but now it was out and you couldn’t take it back. Your anxiety spiked, making your heart beat rapidly, your breaths becoming quicker.

“I can’t quite follow you, my little prince. Why would you lose me?” Roman sat down next to you, putting one arm around you and pulling you against him. Automatically, your head rested on his chest, listening to his rhythmic heartbeat. It was always so calming to you to feel his warmth against your skin, to hear the life thrum through his body so steadily.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you explained to him what had been going through your mind in the past while. He just listened, brushing his hand through your hair, while his other hand stroked your arm soothingly, rubbing circles into it.

When you were done talking, you buried your face in his chest, smothering yourself for a moment. You were so afraid of his reaction. You couldn’t bear the beats of silence between what you’ve said and his eventual reply. It was a deafening kind of silence, one that rang in your ears and through your head, inflicting pain on you.

“Will you look at me, baby?” Roman asked to your surprise.

Cautiously, you lifted your head off of his chest and looked at him. Gently, he cupped your face in both of his hands, focusing his gaze on you, which had you feel exposed.

“I promise you, I won’t be able to find someone better than you. The only possibility would have ever been Zsasz and I’ve already got him. And then I found you. Baby, I- You know I’m not good at these things, but you are that better person already, ‘kay? I’m not leaving you, or killing you, I can assure you. Got it?”

Swallowing thickly, you nodded as best as you could with his hands holding your head up. “Okay, yeah. I’m sorry for- you know,” you spoke softly.

Roman leaned forward and captured your lips in a chaste, yet searing kiss, which you reciprocated as soon as you had caught yourself. For a few minutes, the two of you just shared soft kisses like that. Your heart soared with it, beating in your throat, it seemed, making you light-headed.

When you finally broke the kiss, you felt such intense feelings wash over you, choking you for a minute. They weren’t bad emotions either, but relief, happiness, excitement, and most notably hope.

You believed him and you could only hope he was right about what he’s said.

Only time could tell.

[beepbeepbobop]

Back again.

I was telling my friend (who isn’t a Baccano! fan, but listens to me ramble) about my take on immortals and Czeslaw, and I don’t know where to put it, so!  It goes here.  As a warning, this is mostly me rambling and probably treads ground that has been talked about a lot in the past, but I hope it’s interesting anyway.

(This and the Infinity Train post is not a sign that I’m going to be more active in the future.  Social media and the prospect of interacting with other people’s posts still make me anxious.  Maybe one day.)

So!  The first thing to keep in mind is that change is a major theme in Baccano!.  No one is incapable of changing, but people have different relationships with it depending on who they are.  Czes can't believe that he has changed seventy years after Isaac & Miria stealing him despite clear evidence that he has.  Meanwhile, Nile actively resists change:  His greatest fear after becoming immortal was that he would become desensitized to the loss of human life and begin to devalue it, so he spent decades fighting in active war zones so that he'd never forget the reality of death.  This backfired, and instead left him inured to loss of life...but it's clear that he doesn't want to be this way?  Realizing that he's gotten to the point where his expression doesn't even change if someone dies is devastating for him.  Chane is the opposite:  While it's absolutely for the best that she stops being a hitwoman and killing machine for her father, softening up is terrifying to her because then she can't serve her father the way she wants to.   Czes is on the opposite end of the spectrum, because he wants to be better because he thinks he's a bad person (later on, he decides that he's the only bad person left in the world.  Sir.), but can't recognize it because he doesn't feel different.

And...this is pertinent to the older immortals in particular - I'd argue even moreso than with the younger ones.  Aside from the fact that the Elixir literally stops you from changing in the sense of age or injury...it also has to place inhibitors on your brain.  Your brain is, after all, a physical part of your body!  There are some....weird aspects about immortality that no one is able to figure out (for example, immortals can give birth; someone also pointed out that there are no examples of crying in reverse even though that's also a part of your body), but it's still safe to say that the brain doesn't age either because then...then a lot of the cast would be catatonic from Alzheimer's.  Even without that, the human body can only retain so many memories.  If an immortal's brain had the ability to deteriorate over time or overload based off of the amount of memories it contains....well, I don't think any of the older immortals would be able to function.  Szilard definitely wouldn't be able to function (and neither would Firo after he devours Szilard) because Szilard has the memories of over a dozen people running around in his brain.  Which brings me to my next point:  If an immortal's brain functioned like a human's, devouring would not work as a concept.  One of the hallmarks of being immortal is gaining other people's memories.  Imagine the strain that would cause.  And yet, it doesn't seem to be a problem!  The chief worry of those who have devoured other immortals is worrying that having the memories of the other person might change you consciously or subconsciously.  This is Firo's concern over devouring Szilard.

So...the fact that the brain doesn't physically grow older or change (with some leniency given because real world science sure is iffy here)...feels relevant because, mn...

Many of the older immortals feel stagnant, or stuck in time.  Firstly, if the immortals changed at the same pace as a human being, I don't think most of them would be recognizable from one era to the other.  And yet, they are!  The Victor Talbot of the 1700s is clearly the same person as the Victor Talbot of the 1930s, albeit with alterations (because what kind of person would stay exactly the same after centuries?).  The answer to that question is Elmer, by the way.  Everyone comments on how he acts just like the Elmer they remember back in the day.  But Elmer is a special case, seeing as he's our local empty shell and probable sociopath (not that he has ASPD!  ASPD, sociopathy and psychopathy all present and function entirely differently from each other, which makes it....strange that they're lumped under the same umbrella - but that's another matter).  Secondly, immortals...Uhm, they all handle grief horribly, and seem to feel stuck in the past?  Maiza, for instance, acts starkly different from his past as a rebellious noble-boy gang member, but he's never forgiven himself for giving Gretto the information that led to his death.  (Gretto being his brother.)  Huey's overarching goal is to bring his dead girlfriend back to life, and he's been working towards this goal for centuries.  Sylvie, who admittedly was not an immortal when Gretto died, held off on drinking the Elixir until she was all grown up, then set out to finding Szilard to take revenge on him for killing the boy she had run away with.  This lasted for, you guessed it, centuries.

This isn't to say that immortals don't change, or even that they don't change drastically.  I mentioned Nile, who became inured to death after fighting in war for decades.  Czes went from a trusting, innocent child to someone paranoid and self-centered enough to try and get an entire train car's worth of people killed for his own safety to someone who wants to be a good person, but thinks he never will be and that there's something fundamentally wrong with him.  But changing appears to be very, very difficult, and happens over an extended period of time in response to extreme situations.

And...this is particularly relevant to Czes (who keeps coming up as an example because he's the main person I'm thinking about with this tangent) because....it arguably hits him harder than any of the others due to being a child.  Only the best decisions were made aboard the Advenna Avis, which includes letting the eight year old drink the immortality elixir.  But...mn.  It's one thing to be perpetually in your thirties, or twenties, or sixties, and another altogether to perpetually be eight years old.  Czes can't truly 'grow up' even though he has more life experience than most adults combined, and it shows in his extreme emotional reactions, his self-centeredness, ect.  There's a certain misconception about anime-only fans that he's an adult in a child's body, but I think it's easier to tell in the light novels that that's not the case, especially since you see what he's like back before the Advenna Avis.  (He is shy.  Very shy.  Did nothing wrong ever.)  Also, the fact that SAMPLE goes, "Yes!  The perfect sacrifice!" when they specifically take a child to target emphasizes this.  It's not proof - I'm pretty sure that SAMPLE would focus on his physical age as an 'eternal child', and may or may not have the resources to analyze him and go, "This boy is still eight years old in his head," - , but it hammers the point home.

Then...mn.  One thing that's stuck out to me ever since the start is how long Czes was with Fermet.  There's such a thing as learned helplessness, and it's not like Czes had anywhere to go, so that's not what is odd to me...especially when Fermet is known for manipulating people, and could definitely seed the idea that Czes can't go anywhere.  More than physical proximity, I think about how long Czes believed in Fermet.  It's explicitly stated that Czes absorbing Fermet's memories is what made him realize that - oh, Fermet was just sadistic and everything he said was an excuse.  And...I think this is both an example of being controlled in many respects, and....another example of an immortal being stuck in the past - but in a very, very different way.

First off, learning that the people you look up to want to harm you is...difficult at best, especially when you're younger?  But being mentally 'stuck' at a certain age would make things worse, because Czes is perpetually an age where it's natural to depend on a parental figure, and at an age where the brain isn't equipped to make those kinds of calls or realizations.  There's also the matter of cognitive dissonance!  Cognitive dissonance means a lot of things, but essentially, it's the idea that you have two conflicting beliefs, but the actions you take can retroactively alter your beliefs/place emphasis on one more than the other, as the mind is predisposed to reduce dissonance.  I...take issue with how cognitive dissonance is interpreted because many examples don't account for the beliefs or opinions not being equal in the first place, but that's not the point.  The point is that, as a child, the impulse to reduce dissonance is present while also being played against difficulty reading intentions, perceiving the world outside of yourself, and thinking critically.  (For what it's worth, abusers also tend to discourage critical thinking because it damages their narrative, which would also play a part.)   So, for example...

Say that, theoretically, Czes was yelled at every time he questions the idea that Fermet's intentions are right, or that maybe Fermet doesn't have his best interests in mind.  (Czes is insightful, and they lived with each other for a long time, so this probably happened at least once unless the text directly contradicts me.)  This is tame compared to the things we know about his time with Fermet, but ignore that.  The desire to not be yelled at would lead him to hurriedly agree later on, and cognitive dissonance means that you're inclined to try to make your beliefs agree with your actions.  In other words, the more he plays along, the more his brain tells him that he definitely believes this, and it makes perfect sense to!  Fermet has shown that he cares about him, and took him in after his grandfather died, so of course.  It only makes sense.  And it's even harder for him to bridge the gap to a different conclusion because of how difficult it seems to be for immortals to change.  It's only when Czes devours Fermet (or...or at least gets his memories) that everything snaps into place, because he can't reconcile that no matter how hard he tries (coincidentally, this also happens when he gets memories of being an adult, and while I seriously doubt that Czes went through Fermet's memories willingly, it kind of hammers my point about how difficult being eternally young would make things).  So of course he snaps as hard as he does.  It'd be kind of amazing if he didn't, honestly.

TLDR:  Being immortal made it even harder for him to recognize or comprehend his trauma.  Sorry for that.

[theywontletmebeprincipal]

can you give me drowsy headcanons, ramble, or anything please, i am so deprived. do not be afraid to make it super long, the more the better, i just love drowsy chaperone and love to hear other people (plus you’re one of the only people i’ve seen who knows a lot abt it)

ASK AND YE SHALL RECIEVE

I’ll divide this into a few different parts, going from least to most excruciatingly sad :)

1. general headcanons

2. in canon things i noticed and think about daily

3. a full analysis of man in chair’s connections with the drowsy chaperone as an in universe show (trigger warning for abuse ment, alcoholism ment, suicide ment)

SECTION ONE: HEADCANONS

- okay the chaperone is trans I don’t make the rules

- also her name is ambrosia :) she forsook her last name :)

- she’s about 12 years older than janet and kinda hung with janet’s family after leaving her own for a while . essentially she’s a big sister to janet

- aldolpho has some lines where he asks if the bride is big and/or burly and while in canon this is supposed to show he’s kind of a womanizer I like to believe it’s because he was fully prepared to fight her if needed

- speaking of which Of Course janet is ripped she does gymnastics

- my batshit crazy headcanon for this show is that dee dee allen from the prom is a descendant of roman bartelli no I will not elaborate

- is aldolpho one of those bitches with pets that definitely shouldn’t be legal? yessir

- post show kitty becomes a star okay I just want her to be happy

- the “pastry chefs” do discover a love of baking post show and now run a shop along with performing in feldzeig’s follies which might maybe be a front for some crime too

- TRIX DROWSY AND ALDOLPHO WORLD TRAVELING POLYCULE CAUSING PROBLEMS ON PURPOSE

- underling’s name is james I will not elaborate on this either

- show never says what trix does so I’ve decided she’s an explorer. she charts maps and punches colonialists and drags her stupid friends along with her, the only bitch in the show with a braincell

- drowsy was a former vaudeville child star pre transition - she left the business but was a mentor to janet

- I do have a headcanon for mic’s name but in the spirit of every actor who’s ever played him I won’t fucking tell

SECTION TWO: SHIT I NOTICED

- robert refers to himself by full name a lot of the time which is v interesting given he’s named after the writer, bob martin (whose wife is also named janet van de graaf). the real bob martin is like five feet away at all times playing mic

- idk how to describe it but the dynamic kitty and feldzeig (VICTOR felgzeig. we have a name from one (1) line) have when talking to each other is so snappy and funny and good

- aldolpho’s lines in spanish are mostly romantic bullshit but his first one hints that he has/had a wife who, if we’re taking the translation literally, refused to touch him. yeah I’ll bring this up in analysis

- the “pastry chefs” provide liquor for the wedding even though it has absolutely no relevance to their mission of stopping it :)

- drowsy is like. SUPER endearing towards janet and despite her bad social skills it’s super clear she cares a lot about her

- robert speaks fluent french apparently

- everyone says “ew” after aldolpho reveals his affair with drowsy despite her being a certified milf

- the body language of drowsy in the end of the show where she takes mic’s hands and breaks the barrier between reality and fiction is just so good. she was iconic the whole show but I honestly think this final bit is what won beth leavel the Tony in the end

SECTION THREE: OH NO

before diving into the way the drowsy chaperone affects his character, we need to understand what exactly it’s playing off of. to fully understand mic’s attachment to the drowsy chaperone, we need to outline what led him to isolating himself and living in fiction to the extent that he does.

mic’s father left his family at an early age and his semi estranged alcoholic mother was the one who began his love for theatre. mic grew up in a broken household and eventually moved on to land in a one sided marriage, which lasted a few months until he slipped up and expressed his discomfort with the situation, after which he and his wife split. nowadays, he lives alone in his apartment surrounded by records he uses to escape to a better life - his favorite of which being the one his mother gave him, the drowsy chaperone.

symbolism in the drowsy chaperone regarding mic’s life can be split into two main categories - mommy issues and internalized homophobia. there isn’t nearly as much mom symbolism as there is the latter, so I’ll cover that first.

drowsy covers both bases, but she definitely has some undeniable mom symbolism going on. drowsy marries aldolpho and mom dreams of being swept off her feet by a latin lover, both feel they’ve wasted their chances at love, both drink to forget, etc. this is where the idea of the drowsy chaperone being mic’s ideal way for things to work out, a positive parallel, comes into play. given that we don’t hear too much about mic’s mom other than her connections to major life events and the record itself, we can assume they grew apart in one way or another. the key difference is that drowsy finds a happy relationship for herself and retains her bond with janet, unlike what we’re led to assume mom was like.

further elaborating on the drowsy chaperone representing mic’s ideal fantasy version of events is the wedding the drowsy chaperone’s plot centers around. here’s a list of the things that didn’t stop that damn wedding:

- a minister not showing up

- the groom cheating on the bride with the bride

- the bride having a complete mental breakdown

- indirect mafia interference

- direct mafia interference

on the flip side, what little mic says about his wedding indicates it sucked absolute ass. he spent the entire ceremony in internal distress as he went through with a life changing event he, at that point, knew at least a bit that he didn’t want. I think he also implies he had severe diarrhea on the wedding day? it gets worse when you realize mic’s relationship before the wedding wasn’t any good for him either - he was playing along the whole time because it would be cruel not to, right?

throughout the show, mic is pretty clearly shown as an extremely repressed gay man. there are five specific instances that point at romantic and/or sexual attraction to men directly and another moment outside of his commentary that pretty much confirms it if you look a little bit deeper. thus, here is what I propose - to mic, the drowsy chaperone’s wedding plot represents a world where he was able to ignore that part of himself and have a happy marriage with his wife despite all the overwhelming obstacles thrown at him. however, bits and pieces of that internalized homophobia manage to show themselves throughout the drowsy chaperone anyway despite its happy ending. here’s a rundown on a few significant instances:

- by the end of the show, the “pastry chefs”, who had literally been planning to kill feldzeig, have left their life of crime to perform with him. this symbolizes how in mic’s ideal world he would have been able to turn away from what he perceived at the time as living wrongly - his homosexuality

- at the same time, the “pastry chefs” have this line, spoken in regards to janet: “if she gets married and leaves the show... there ain’t no show.” this is a take on mic’s subconscious concern that he might lose himself if he goes on with his marriage pretending everything is alright - of course, as we already know, he doesn’t listen

- “cold feets” is a pretty obvious instance of mic’s hesitation

- aldolpho’s line in spanish regarding the wife who won’t touch him flips to reflect on mic’s treatment of his own ex wife - she was alien to him as a lover, just as aldolpho was to this woman

- janet recalls her meeting robert at a point in the show and states “we spooned, briefly, then he proposed.” though mic’s relationship pre marriage was much longer than that, it must have felt that way to him - just as quick and nonsensical as janet describes

- just as janet is caught in showbiz but has a toxic love for it, so does mic with his own repressed life

- janet has a line in “show off” that alludes to her experiencing harassment/assault: “I don’t wanna be cheered no more/ praised no more/ grabbed no more/ touched no more/ loved no more” , which I believe represents the way mic perceived his intimacy with his wife - labeled as love yet unenjoyable for him

- “I look into his eyes... I get all woozy. and that’s... love, isn’t it?” is another very clear nod to mic’s misconception of love based off the only thing he’s ever experienced, relationships with women he’s had to fake

- this is the part where I tell you the lyrics to toledo surprise are a metaphor for actively suppressing gay thoughts. I’ll just leave you with “if it tries to rise; don’t let it”. these lyrics are not comprehensive enough to make a dish - trust me, I have tried. it’s also notable that they serve a double entendre as instructions on how to beat the shit out of someone, but several lyrics are also directed towards the singer/audience. for example: “it’s a snap/ try it folks/ whip your whites/ split your yolks” is an easy metaphor for the unhealthy mental gymnastics required to repress oneself so wholeheartedly

it’s also worth noting the obvious just for the sake of it - mic copes with all this by isolating himself in a safe spot where he can use musicals to escape and live his ideal fantasy, even if it’s only for a short time. there are plenty of nods to this throughout the drowsy chaperone as well. in “as we stumble along” drowsy notes that “the best that we can do is hope a bluebird/ will sing a song/ as we stumble along” - to mic, musicals are his bluebird. while mic mostly indulges in these fantasies, he knows to a certain extent the sheer amount of time he’s spending in them is unhealthy. the first line of the show is “I hate theatre” and I think that to an extent? he does. obviously mic loves theatre as a concept, that can’t be denied. what he hates is the way he’s allowed it to confine him.

with all that out of the way, let’s move on to the most important moment of the show. if you’ve ever seen the show, you’ll know exactly which scene I’m talking about immediately. I’m referring to, of course, the infamous “l-ve while you can” scene. as janet stands at the alter she asks drowsy for one final word of advice, which is partially obscured by aldolpho dropping his cane. “l-ve while you can.” it’s a simple moment, but mic reveals to us that he’s been agonizing over it for years - did drowsy say “live” or “leave”? it occurs to everyone eventually, whether a couple days after the show like with me, or years after like with bob martin’s replacement on broadway that the most likely answer is that she had said “love while you can”. it’s this moment, when you realize why mic had never seen that as an option, that the drowsy chaperone’s status as a musical within a comedy within a tragedy is solidified. mic had no love in his life - his parents hated each other and he was forcing himself into relationships in which he felt nothing. to him, living and leaving were options, but loving never was. so he locked himself away.

as the final note on the record is playing, all power in mic’s apartment shuts down and the fantasy is ruined. the superintendent arrives and further invades his space, breaking the private sanctity he had built up for so long. she fixes the power and before mic can stop it from happening, the final note of the record plays. and the super recognizes it as a musical. she makes a remark about how much her wife loves musicals and leaves, completely unaware of what she’s just done.

mic sits in silence for a while. and then he begins to sing. gradually, the cast members begin to echo their songs, dancing around him but never touching him. then drowsy appears and sings harmony to mic. and she takes his hands. the show ends with the entire cast, including mic, taking off on trix’s airplane as the curtain falls, drowsy handing mic his record as the plane takes off.

some people interpret the ending as mic committing suicide, finally deciding between live and leave. I don’t personally believe that and neither does writer and original mic bob martin, but it’s still a valid interpretation. the drowsy chaperone’s ending is ambiguous, yes, but not to that extent. no matter what you believe the ending means, it was brought on not by the interruption of the fantasy, but by whatever realization the super’s remark about her wife triggered. as I see it, there are two main options here.

option one - mic realizes he still has time to live and to love. when he was younger the prospect of living as himself was unthinkable to him, yet now he sees that while he was spending countless years alone the world grew. drowsy offers mic her hand, an invitation to finally become what he had admired in her - someone who isn’t anywhere near perfect, but is damn well trying and living life without regret. he accepts.

option two - mic realizes that while he spent years alone the world moved on without him and he’s isolated himself so much from social interaction that he’d no longer be able to make a meaningful connection with anyone outside. so he stays inside instead, never trying, always trapped between live and leave. drowsy offers mic her hand - at least he’ll have a tune to carry with him.

I really want to believe we got option one. I think option one is the intended, really, given mic ends the show with a joyful goodbye to the audience. but the way that the ending is still left open for interpretation makes it so that we can never really know - we as the audience only get to be privy to a small part of mic’s life, and we don’t get the answers we want because at the end of the day they’re irrelevant to us - all we can do is make our own choice.

[barricadebops]

As I'm about 99.9% positive you would agree, I will never understand why people say that Enjolras isn't a good friend or wouldn't be a good boyfriend. Like I get that the revolution and his work was important to him (I personally believe that he would balance his friends and work to the best of his ability), but you cannot tell me that he wouldn't drop everything, including his work, at a moment's notice if a friend needed him. This is something that I believe wholeheartedly, and someone would have to pry this head canon/belief/whatever you want to call it out of my cold dead fingers.

Yes, I of course agree with this 100%. I really don't understand why people would say that either, it is just not him! The thing about Enjolras is that he cares so much, enough to the point where it was what got him killed. Some may argue that he cares more for his cause than for people, and I would say that is because they are viewing the cause and people as two different concepts, when, in reality, they are actually one and the same! Because Enjolras' cause is the people and that includes all people—the common man Feuilly, his (probably previously) wealthy friend Combeferre, and even the man who on several occasions has let him down, disappointed him, and given him all the reason not to trust him, Grantaire. If his cause is the people, how could he ever feel cold towards the people who matter most to him?

I think the idea a vast amount of people have that Enjolras doesn't love comes from the fact that canonically Enjolras does not experience romantic love, and frankly, this sort of thinking is rather dangerous, because it erases the fact that love comes in so many more forms than just romance. Enjolras is filled with an incredible amount of love—love for his friends, love for the people around him, and love for the future, and every one of those aspects links back to the love he feels for those who surround him. It is the love for the people he would encounter everyday while walking on the streets, it is the love for the people he would meet when he would go to buy his bread, it is the love for the friends who would look to him as their beloved friend and leader—it is his love for these people that he launches an entire rebellion— and subsequently dies for it, too. His ideals are defined by the motto of France—liberty, equality, and fraternity—but these ideals are driven by his greatest ideal of all, the one he hold key above others: love, and he makes his value of the ideal abundantly evident in his speech following the execution of Le Cabuc when he says:

"This is a bad moment to mention the word 'love.' I mention it anyway, and I glorify it. Love, the future belongs to you... In the future there will be no killing, the earth will be radiant, the human race will love." (5.12.8.)

From this, it is quite clear that Enjolras does not just experience love, but feels one of the highest and most greatest forms of it, so the characterization that he knows not of the feeling of love is quite unfounded.

He absolutely does love his friends to death. The one time we see him ready to forsake his ideals is when rather than keep the valuable spy Javert, who holds information about the rebels at the barricades, he is willing to hold an exchange so that they may bring back Jehan Prouvaire.

"'Yes,' replied Enjolras. 'But not as much as by Jean Prouvaire's life.'" (5.14.5)

He also sees so much good in his friends, he believes in them wholeheartedly, and for Enjolras, his belief is his expression of love.

"He composed, in his own mind, with Combeferre’s philosophical and penetrating eloquence, Feuilly’s cosmopolitan enthusiasm, Courfeyrac’s dash, Bahorel’s smile, Jean Prouvaire’s melancholy, Joly’s science, Bossuet’s sarcasms, a sort of electric spark which took fire nearly everywhere at once." (5.1.6.)

I've always loved this passage because it allows us to glimpse into Enjolras' mind and see how he truly thinks of his friends, and the way he sees them is incredibly sweet. He sees these people as his brothers who are capable of amazing feats, who are just as passionate as he is, and will be the ones to help him fight for the future. The love he holds for them is incredible, and though we get to see inside of Enjolras' head so little, this passage here is quite enough to inform the reader of just how much Enjolras draws joy from his friends.

In terms of the canonicity of the brick, I have always seen Enjolras' final moment as him realizing and accepting Grantaire's love for him (I would also argue that this moment is also when Grantaire himself, having not known exactly what it was he felt for Enjolras, also realized what exactly he felt for him), but dying with him only as a friend, but the fact that he smiles, and that it is him who extends his hand towards Grantaire says a lot about how strong his platonic love for his friends is. And of course, once again it is not just for his friends; far too many people see Enjolras as a man willing to sacrifice whoever and whatever in order to accomplish his goals, but his words once he discovers that Paris has abandoned their barricade say otherwise. When the rebels stubbornly insist that they all remain, no doubt fantasizing of dying "heroic martyr deaths," rather than encourage them, he instead essentially chides them by reminding them that:

"Vain-glory is wasteful[,]" (5.1.14)

so to paint him as merciless holds no merit. I feel as if this image comes from the quote:

"Enjolras was a charming young man capable of being terrible." (4.4.1.)

While yes, it is very capable for Enjolras to turn ruthless, the key word in that sentence is capable. The word that preceeds it, the one that follows after the definite word was, is the word charming, and the fact that charming is put before terrible holds great significance. Enjolras' first instinct, what comes to him naturally, is to do good, to be good, to be charming. He can be terrible, yes, but he must put his mind into doing so, whereas being a good person comes to him without thinking. Many tend to ignore the first part of the sentence in favour of the second, and they twist it to mean that his first instinct is to do bad instead of good, which really does not define his character at all.

Perhaps the biggest contributor to the misinterpretation of Enjolras' character is the way people have read his dynamic with Grantaire, and the way the lines between canon and fanon Grantaire have been so thoroughly blurred that it has ended up distorting Enjolras' image while erasing major parts of Grantaire's character that makes him the character and to a greater extent, metaphorical representation he is. I will not lie; I write fanfiction, and the version of Grantaire that I write into my stories is most definitely his fanon image; in other words, he is a vastly improved version. But it is incredibly important to acknowledge the way the two concepts deviate from each other, or you'll end up with a situation in which the character you have in mind isn't really the original character itself. It's okay for people to have different perceptions! Everyone understand literature differently, and that's the beauty of the arts! I think it's totally cool that everyone believes in characters in different ways! But for me, it really bothers me the way the fandom tends to paint Grantaire as a saint while portraying Enjolras as a character who always seems to know less than Grantaire, always is on a lower platform than Grantaire, and is always harsh and unjust towards Grantaire, because it simply is not true. A lot about Grantaire is ignored in terms of the canonicity of the brick. For example, it is true that Grantaire is, in fact, ugly, and he's described that way for a specific element of the narrative that Victor Hugo is writing in (@lilys-hazel-eyes is writing a great analysis on morality represented by beauty, which is exactly the point here—you should definitely go check it out!) In the brick, Victor Hugo describes Grantaire's cynicsm to be the "dry-rot of intellect" (4.4.1.) Hugo's stance on nihilism and cynicism is made quite evident in the way he portrays Grantaire, a character meant to represent the physical manifestation of cynicism (some say that he's the physical embodiment of Paris itself and I think that's a really neat reading on that!)

"A rover, a gambler, a libertine, often drunk... Grantaire, with insidious doubt creeping through him, loved to watch faith soar in Enjolras... his soft, yielding, disclocated, sickly, shapeless ideas..." (4.4.1.)

From these descriptions, it is quite clear what sort of opinion Victor Hugo holds of cynics, which is why Grantaire's characterization is so deliberate. He is trying to make a commentary here about the harm those who do not hold passion or belief can do, to both themselves and society. It is why Grantaire's redeeming moment is the one in which he finally comes to accept the hope of the revolution and proves through action his belief in Enjolras.

In terms of what is presented in the brick, Grantaire does not exactly have much to really defend him. Often drunk, he expends his energy into drunk rambles rather than meaningful meeting contributions, (though admittedly, he does say some rather valid and eloquent things within his rambles—the quote "Take away 'Cotton is King,' what remains of America?" [4.4.4] comes to mind) he deliberately pokes and bothers people as seen when he calls Enjolras "heartless," (5.1.6) and when given a task, does not hold up his end of the deal and ger it done despite having asked for it in the first place. Enjolras' doubt in him is actually entirely understandable; after all, what has Grantaire really done to prove himself trustworthy and reliable? When Enjolras asks if "[he is] good for anything" (5.1.6) the question is, likely in his eyes, genuine rather than insulting. And even when he has every reason not to, Enjolras still puts his faith into Grantaire to get something of extreme importance done for him, which I do think says a lot about Enjolras' willingness to believe in the best in people.

Victor Hugo ends the chapter right before we can see Enjolras' reaction to Grantaire's failure, and while this part, I will say, is up for interpretation, personally I have always extrapolated that the most emotion this would draw from him is disappointment—though it is disappointment that he definitely thinks he should have seen coming, rather than imagining him as getting insanely mad at Grantaire.

Their next interaction is during the rebellion itself, during which Enjolras is put under quite a bit of stress and Grantaire's behaviour really is not helping matters, so him snapping is actually very believable, if a little harsh.

The Enjolras seen in fanon, derived from these interactions, always seems so harsh, so rash when he speaks to Grantaire and therefore is characterized as rash and reckless in general, and generally seems to not understand emotion very well, which is very unlike him. Rather than harsh, I would say that with the exception of course of the rebellion at the barricade and the lead up to that time, Enjolras actually seems to be quite calm.

"All held their peace, and Enjolras bowed his head." (4.4.5.)

Rather than instantly explode at Marius for his rather awful beliefs of Napoleon, instead, Enjolras keeps calm and silent, which demonstrates what an incredible depth of patience he has. And as for Enjolras not understanding emotion, when it comes to fanworks, I'm generally tolerant of people holding different perceptions for different characters, but of all perceptions, this one is one I cannot begin to comprehend, and this is one that I will say that to say he knows not of emotion is to have wrongly read his character.

"And a tear trickled slowly down Enjolras' marble cheek." (5.1.8.)

I simply cannot allow myself to believe that the man who cried at the prospect of having to shoot the artillerman, who calls him his "brother," who is no doubt thinking that had circumstances been different, the action he would be taking would not be necessary—I do not believe this is a man who would not understand feelings and emotions.

The Grantaire in the book who has "the dry rot of intellect," (4.4.1) only ever makes unnecessary rants during meetings, and is very much untrustworthy, is a far outcry from the Grantaire who bases his cyncism on being what he would say is being "well informed," often makes valid points in meetings, and proves himself reliable. Similarly, the Enjolras that is thoughful, as he proves himself to be in his "Outlook from the Top of the Barricade" speech, still chooses to believe in the best in others despite being given every reason not to, and is actually quite patient, is very different from his rash and reckless, short tempered, seems-to-hate-Grantaire, fanon counterpart.

Of course, if you take characters who are shaped by their surroundings and circumstances in the nineteenth century and adapt them to fit the scene of the twenty-first century, it's obvious things are going to change! However, I think it's important to keep these key traits in mind when doing so, and more often than not, it is these key traits that end up getting mangled. When one sticks to these traits, it's easy to say Enjolras would be a wondeful friend/boyfriend (if you see him as having one.) Enjolras' whole deal is loving and caring immensely, and to put his absolute one hundred percent effort into everything he does, and that includes into his friendships and relationships.

Once again, I'm not bashing on the fandom here, I'm part of it. I'll repeat again, I too write with the fanon image of Grantaire in my head. Everyone takes away different things from literature, and that's fine! This is simply how I have interpreted it.

One more note on Enjolras.

Les Amis de l'ABC absolutely love Enjolras. The way Enjolras' character has been misinterpreted has ended up having an effect on the way the Amis are looked at as well. The Amis are all so passionate about the revolution, they attend meetings because they truly do believe in the change they can create in their world, so I'll never truly understand the characterization of the Amis as laughing at Enjolras' devotion to the cause, or finding his passion for it stupid or bothersome. Victor Hugo himself describes just how passionate of a group they are:

"All these young men who differed so greatly, and who, on the whole can only be discussed seriously, held the same religion: Progress... The most giddy of them became solemn when they pronounced that date: '89... the pure blood of principle ran in their veins. They attached themselves, without immediate shades, to incorruptible right and absolute duty." (4.4.1.)

Everyone here, with the exception of Grantaire, is here because they believe wholeheartedly in the revolution. This is not something Enjolras forced upon them, this is not something they groan when thinking about, it is something they all believe in so passionately. It is not something they make fun of him for.

"Affiliated and initiated, they sketched out the ideal underground." (4.4.1.)

They are all here by choice, by will, and by the values they hold close to their heart, and so to say Enjolras is someone who constantly whines about his cause and the others think he needs to lighten up is both an insult to him and the rest. Furthermore, the Amis really love Enjolras, and not just as their leader, but as a beloved friend, and as strongly as I believe Enjolras would drop all of his work to help any of the Amis when they are in need, I believe the Amis would do the same for him. The unity of Les Amis de l'ABC says a lot about the kind of charismatic leader Enjolras is, and his friends most definitely adore him.

So yeah, anon, I 100% agree, and rest assured, if they try and take this canon fact away, they'll have to pry it from both our sets of our cold dead fingers.

[diosefm]

THE OLD LION

when: very very late, right before the rebel announcement where: the gardens triggers: shitty dads mentions: minos valey, @virgobydcsign @pista-clearmark @deezeeashfrost​

DIOSE

She might have completely ruined the only good thing going on with her life, but at least she's got Virgo again. And she feels things are different now. There is now a silent agreement between the two. They're trusting each other now, they're actually acting like siblings. It doesn't matter if their lives are in shambles, because now they know they can both rely on each other. The newly-found softness between has been translated into physical acts. Diose and her sibling sit in the garden, Virgo's head resting on her lap as they exchange whispers and secrets. They mention Blythe, Pista. Silly yet important things. Things they couldn't discuss before. After the chaos that happened inside the main hall, Diose is at peace now. Sort of. But that's quickly ruined as she hears the familiar sound of her father's boots approaching the pair. "Virgo, we have to go."

VIRGO

They didn’t expect this to be so easy. That after everything they could go running after Diose (literally) and things would be okay. That they’re comfortable here, the delicate scent of their sister’s perfume and the way they bind her secrets to their own. Their eyes drift closed as they listen. Tiny details. Sweet, lovely things they never should’ve missed in the first place. Diose’s shift into panic and their instant understanding. 

 “No.” Virgo stiffens, surprised by their own resolve. They don’t move, their head a solid weight in Diose’s lap. “I think we should stay.” They’re tired of being scared. Shadows cast across their face as Minos comes between them and the light trickling out from the party, almost tempting them to look. Almost. His silence betrays nothing.

DIOSE

Diose has never been scared of her father. When she was younger, the older Valey idolized him, relished on the attention he gave her. While the appearance of Virgo did cause a rift between the two of them, Diose remained his favorite his favorite due to her younger's sibling inability to honor the Valey name despite being the one with actual Valey blood in their veins. As glad as that made Diose at the time, she stopped seeing her father in the same way. And now? She is not scared for her, but for Virgo. So, it's surprising that their younger sibling chooses to not flee and face him instead. Diose knows she can stand her ground when it comes to their father, but has her doubts in regards to Virgo. Still, she is no one to contradict him, so she nods and waits. 

 Despite his age, Minos Valey stills stands tall and proud. His presence is imposing, able to instill fear in the most powerful of men. Because no one can beat him, they're all below him, he's made it clear. And when he speaks, it's even worse.

"You two ought to be happy now. You've been given everything, you were set up to triumph and you've thrown all of that away in favor of playing stupid, childish games. Was your pathetic display last year not enough for you, Virgo?"

VIRGO

They’d be lying if they said they hadn’t been expecting that. Minos did well to hold his tongue this far with regards to their tragic debut. Granted, he’d made a few comments here and there over dinner, but those events had always had company and their father was cautious. Virgo finds the truth now doesn’t hurt them half as much as it ought to. The thing which does creep under their skin, unsettling what calm they’ve found with Diose, is the expectation. So much pressure to hold up archaic ideals of perfection. Being pitted against each other and then against the world because one arrogant old man believes his legacy trumps all. They didn’t ask for this. Neither of them have ever been given much choice. 

 “We haven’t thrown anything away.” Virgo cracks an eye, squinting up at their sister. Even now they look to her for guidance. “Feels like half the guests tonight are dressed in Diose, that’s huge. She’s all the style recaps are going to be talking about for weeks.” Okay, that’s maybe not quite true considering the Games really are coming. But they know their point is solid. If they had the guts to, they’d add that Diose’s work is better for the change in her. They see what she’s done for Nelly. 

 Minos’ expression is unreadable. The art of intimidation is all in the subtleties, the way he angles his chin to look down on the both of them. “What good will that do? After the display you put on for all these esteemed guests?” A weighted pause. “You mean to make a mockery of all I’ve built for you.”

DIOSE

Diose wants to tell Virgo to shut up. They've been dealing with Minos's parenting for longer than they have. They've lived with him, had his eyes follow her everywhere until she decided it was time to flee the nest. She looks down at Virgo and can only shake her head. She's thankful, really. Virgo uses their turn to speak to compliment her, help her appear like she is still flawless and can do no wrong. Maybe Minos saw her that way once, but when Diose looks at him, sees the way her father clenches his fists, she knows how he truly feels.

"Wearing your sister's designs used to mean something. I could hardly hide my disgust when I saw the kind of individuals who dared to don your sister's designs. Rejects, vagrants. People who are not up to our standard, who do not deserve to break bread with us." A pause. "Let alone sit beside you two when the eyes of the Capitol are on you two"

His words sting. They hurt because she knows he is know speaking directly to her. It's a wonder how Diose is able to lift her gaze and look him right in the eye, hand buried in Virgo's hair. "I merely stood up for myself." She does not dare to mention Pista. She doesn't need her father to think of him, have him on his sights. It'll do no good. "Should I have allowed that man to humiliate me? He is nothing but a drunk. I don't understand why you must give him such importance." As much as she hates DeeZee, mentioning his name is not an option either. Pista cares about him, obviously. She'll protect him this one time. Not that his father can't figure out who is who. Diose just wants to direct his attention somewhere else.

"You're pathetic. Both of you are. Pathetic children tainting my hard work, embarrassing me in front of my colleagues. That is not the way we do things, Diose. Discretion is of utmost importance when dealing with vermin."

VIRGO

Virgo may have taken their father’s chastisement with relative ease (at least the won’t think too hard on it until later) but the way he speaks of Diose boils their blood. They think she’s done the right thing in extending her gift to the people they want to call friends. Nelly looks beautiful; Pista is worlds away from toiling over trains. Just because they aren’t Capitol penthouse elite doesn’t mean they shouldn’t get to share in their sister’s perfection. Diose is showing a side of herself they’ve admired for years now, the one she likes to pretend doesn’t exist: true kindness. 

 “It means more now,” they say, softly. Virgo wishes they’d been bold enough to swallow their anguish and ask Diose to dress them, too. The point doesn’t hit as hard when they’d deflected elsewhere. “Weddings are supposed to be about unity. That’s what Diose is showing, collaborating with the people who worked harder than all of us to be here. Not vermin, victors.” 

 Virgo wants to cringe at how pretentious, how idealistic, they sound. Words influenced by the low-budget dramas they love so much but can’t quite capture the heroism of. Speeches aren’t their strong suit. They reach up to squeeze Diose’s arm, gentle reassurance that they’re on her side. After all that she’s shared with them they need her to know they’re on her side. No matter what they say, they know neither would get through to Minos alone. Chances they’ll do it together aren’t great either. 

”Save your excuses. You ought to know better than to stoop to their level. Don’t you realize the damage you’ve done? It’s clear all those years of education were put to waste if you can’t outsmart that halfwit.”

DIOSE

Diose's night has been absolutely terrible, but she finds solace in the fact that Virgo and her are closer than ever. Still, Diose wants nothing more than to put her hand over Virgo's mouth and keep them from talking. She appreciates their words, she really does, but the last thing both of they need is to provoke their father. Diose knows very well what he is capable of when he is upset and she doesn't want her father to target Pista or Nelly. "He provoked me, and I'm your daughter. Should you not be on my side?" But she knows better than that, knows her father is only on the side or those who are winning. With Diose being the laughingstock of the night, she knows the only support she has right now is Virgo's.

"Unity? The only people that you should be concerned about are your family. Your sister's designs are now almost as worthless as yours. Do you not care about my legacy, or your mother's? I knew she spoiled you too much. You're soft. It's sickening. I won't be on your side nor your sister's when you two are determined to spend your time surrounded by people below us. I've had my eyes on both of you all night. Have you forgotten whose blood runs through your veins? That woman you're with has done nothing but spit on your family's work for years."

She feels her father's insults will sting more now that they're getting personal. Diose is certain she can handle at least some of his poison with the help of her remaining grace and poise, but it's Virgo she is worried about. Father is right, they are softer than any other member of their family.

VIRGO

Their father’s words begin to fall on deaf ears. If they’re being honest, they don’t fully understand the concept of a legacy. They’ve heard the word thrown around so carelessly their entire lives that it’s begun to lose all meaning, absent the ambition they’re sure it’s supposed to ignite in them. With Diose, they can see how someone might pin their hopes on her to make them proud. They don’t give themselves the same credit—and for good reason. All the time and money in the world wasn’t enough for Ma to make them who she wanted them to be, a fact she’s begrudgingly accepted. Virgo isn’t surprised to learn their father can’t handle that.

 Virgo’s eyes widen and they push to sitting, angled instinctively toward Diose.  As if they’d stand a chance at sparing either of them this lecture. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” they snap. The tangled mess of rage, and pain, and fear they’ve tended since the hijack flares once again. “That’s—it’s— nothing to do with you.”

“Everything you do, either of you, reflects upon my name. There are eyes everywhere, children, do not think that any of your pathetic attempts at stealth render them blind. Money won’t buy their silence forever. What do you think happens when people begin to question why my daughter has been seen cavorting with some middle-district victor? When they question our loyalties?"

DIOSE

Instinctively, Diose grabs Virgo's hands. For support, and in case she needs to squeeze it so let them know it's time to shut up. Their father isn't the one to give up. And the angrier they make him, the worse the consequences will be. As much as she'd like to properly fight the man and get rid of him at once, Diose still needs him. And he is too powerful. And maybe, she is scared, fearful of what the man could do to her since she's not his blood. Both of her parents have always emphasized how powerful Valey blood is and how lucky she is that they rescued her from Ten. She doesn't doubt her father would be quick to turn on her now that his brainwashing has stopped working on her. Virgo is his biological child, which she sees as an advantage over her.

He says eyes are everywhere and Diose feels like throwing up. She knows this, obviously. Both Virgo and her do as they've been confronted with footage of their wrongdoings before. It was easy to deal with it back then just because Pista wasn't involved. Diose can only guess Virgo feels the same way given how protective they've been of their crush for months. "My loyalties are in the right place. Can you say the same, father? You seem to be losing allies while we've gained new ones. Regardless of who they are, you have always said there is strength in number, have you not?" It's a stupidly dangerous reply, but she is tired and won't have him hurt Pista. Her own self is fair game, but he is out of the question.

"Alliance?" An horrid, sarcastic chuckle fills the air. "Clearly your mother didn't do a proper job teaching you where your priorities should be. And you," he turns towards Virgo, eyes filled with rage. "It has everything to do with me. Defy me again and not even your mother will be able to save you from my rage. Neither will your sister or the fools you two have been sharing your time and beds with."

-------------------------------

We are headcanoning the rest because writing that man is exhausting, so bear with us.

Virgo and Diose continue arguing with their father. To give y'all some context, Minos keeps blackmail worthy footage of his kids. He is a producer and in charge of the propaganda you see everywhere, so he is omniscient. He has done this since they were both children and hasn't stopped. If anything, he has more of a reason to keep tabs on them now. He continues berating them about their recent choices and who they let his friends and colleagues see them with. By now it is pretty obvious Blythe and Pista are on his shitlist and he doesn't want them near his children. But do Virgo and Diose care? No.

When he implies he intends knows more than be is letting them know, the Valey siblings rightfully start worrying since if the man has managed to acquire footage of them on the trains, they're fucked. Diose is able to pretend she still has everything under control, but Virgo starts shaking.

Anyway, Minos grabs both Diose and Virgo and drags them towards the main hall. His intention is to take them home so he can fully unleash his fury without anyone seeing him, but Virgo and Diose are saved by the bell. Well, the rebel announcement. Everything is chaos. Virgo completely freezes. It reminds them of past announcements so they don't even react. Thankfully they got Diose who as we know is quick on her feet so she takes advantage of their circumstances, grabs Virgo, and heads straight towards her suite.

The spent the rest of the night having what is probably the most fucked up sleepover party you could ever imagine. Dioses tries her best to comfort Virgo while Virgo tries to fix Diose's cheek but they're both in such a weird state of mind they just stay up talking until they're so exhausted they pass out on Diose's bed.

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Halloween Coutdown - A Bump in the Night

Summary: Victoria Van Gale is a serious scientist even after her laboratory and workplace is destroyed, she remains the sort of person to look for the reasons behind everything. She likes being in control, she makes stern analyses and important experiments, and she… goes trick or treating with a bunch of kids?

Notes: 3 days until Halloween, you guys!!! This is the irst time i actually try to make something I write feel like an episode, I hope you enjoy it! I thought it would be hard to write something with no sketchbook (and no librarian either!!) but it was actually so fun! Love this little unhinged scientist

Read it on ao3

Spooky song rec: HYPNOTIZED by AViVA

Victoria Van Gale did not like things she could not control.

She took her coffee black, she liked to read biographies, she was an early riser and she didn’t like things she couldn’t control. It was just one more part of her personality like any other, and she’d never really seen a reason to fight it. Granted, she supposed that it had been partially to blame for the fact that her observatory was now destructed, and she had to work a dull nine to five job to pay for the apartment she’d managed to rent. But she hadn’t been the only one involved in that mess. The responsibility could hardly be given to her, she’d been perfectly fine  before those kids and their talking bird arrived. Or at least she told herself.

But the fact was that, out of her distaste for things she couldn’t understand and command, was born a revulsion against that one night of the year.

Halloween. What a bunch of nonsense.

She did her best to forget the night every year. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in ghosts, witches and monsters. She’d seen enough to know there was much in this world that she couldn’t understand. It just made her uncomfortable to have to face a whole celebration dedicated to the incomprehensible. Why should they revel in it when they could analyze it? If humans had superior intellect, only their silly superstitions stopped them from being the absolute rulers of the world.

It seemed that, in her efforts, Victoria did manage to forget about Halloween, because she gasped as soon as she stepped outside and was faced with a crowd of children dressed in colourful costumes, running around and knocking on people's doors. A group of kids nearby noticed her leaving the building in which her apartment was, and ran towards her.

“Trick or treat!” They exclaimed, raising their pumpkin shaped buckets at her. Victoria tried not to feel too guilty as she gently told them he had nothing to give them and watched them walk away crestfallen.

Her plan had been to go to the nearest convenience store, pick something to snack on since she felt like it, and return home just as quickly. With all the tumult the celebrations caused, however, she was just considering giving up on her task to head back home when she felt something bump against her leg. Looking down, she saw a white figure, much smaller than a child. As it realized it had bumped on her in its haste, it looked at her and Victoria could see the glimmer of the lamp post light on its dark eyes. It ran away, and she took off after it.

By the way the creature ran, with white linen trailing behind it, Victoria could only come to one conclusion: she’d found a ghost. And if she managed to catch it, the amount of information she could get was unimaginable! How did ghosts come back to the earth? Was it true that there were more ghosts around on Halloween? What was the afterlife like? How did a ghost even work? The excitement at the prospect of asking those questions, combined with the running which she didn’t do often left her breathless.

As she dodged them, her chase attracted the odd stares of many children, and even their complaints when she accidently hit one in the shoulder, but she didn’t care, all that mattered was getting to the ghost and taking it to somewhere where she could study it. Nevermind that this would probably be her apartment.

She came to a halt, however, when a large group of children who were crossing the street together blocked her path. She tried to squeeze her way past it, but when she had finally crossed the crowd, the ghost was nowhere in sight. 

“Oh, no” She whispered, looking around frantically. She jogged forward, coming to the end of the street, and looked into the two other streets that the one she was in led into, seeing nothing but more children. There was a fifty per cent chance she’d pick the right road, and she was about to try her luck on the path to her right when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Victoria… what are you doing?”

Startled, Victoria looked behind her shoulder to see the same blue haired girl who had set her weather spirit free. Her face had been painted green with black drawings that mimicked stitches, and the hair bow she was wearing had screws in its ends to make it look like they were coming out of her skull. She was accompanied by the boy Victoria also remembered, who wore dark clothes and fake fangs, and a girl Victoria hadn’t met yet, a witch hat on top of her head and wearing a black dress.

She didn’t exactly still have hard feelings towards Hilda, though she wasn’t over the fact that her interference in private matters had left her homeless and jobless. For her part, however, Hilda looked like she didn’t trust Victoria in the least.

“Oh! Hilda! You won’t believe this, I just saw a <em>ghost</em>. I’m, uh, happy to see you’re fine, by the way. With the nasty fall you took from the bureau and all.”

“Are you really?” David muttered, making Hilda elbow him softly so as to tell him not to pick on her.

Hilda asked her what the ghost she saw was like, while Frida whispered to her friends questioning who this woman was. Though she couldn’t hear what he was saying, Victoria noticed David answering in her ear.

“It was very small.” She informed, placing her hands apart from each other in order to show her esteemed measurement of it. The girl that was dressed as a witch looked at her with suspicion as her friend talked to her, but she tried to ignore the two of them and focus on Hilda. “And it really did wear a white cloth like the tales say. Pretty quick, too.”

Frida was about to refute something she said when Hilda lifted her hand, asking her not to.

“A ghost!” Hilda exclaimed, the hint of a smile on her lips. “That’s interesting. But why were you running after it?”

Victoria fidgeted, rubbing her thumb and index finger in circles. “Well, I… I’d never seen a ghost before, is all. I just wanted to try and take a look! See what they’re made of!”

Looking disappointed with the answer, Hilda sighed and shook her head negatively. “Still trying to control everything, Victoria? Haven’t you learned already?”

“That’s… that’s not it…” Victoria tried to defend herself, looking down at her feet.

“You know what?” Hilda said suddenly, her tone changing abruptly to a more joyful one. “You are not going to find anything in this crowd by yourself. Not only that, but all three of us have actual experiences with ghosts. We’ll help you with it.”

“Really?” Both Victoria and the two other children gasped.

“Really, under one condition.” She put a finger up, looking serious. “This is my first Halloween in Trolberg, and I don’t want to miss out on it. You’ll come with us and after we’re done trick or treating, we’ll help.”

“Huh?” Victoria frowned, thinking that perhaps the girl had hit her head hard after that explosion in the bureau. If she ran, she still might catch up with her ghost, but if she spent the night trick or treating, she was certain to never see it again.

“Hilda, I don’t have time-” She tried to argue, but the girl cut her off.

“Don’t you know the lore of Halloween? These ghosts will be walking around town the whole night. In fact, if you come with us, there is an even greater chance of you finding a ghost, even if not the one you just saw. But it’s all the same to science, right?”

“Yes…” Victoria rubbed her chin. “I suppose you’re right.”

“But Hilda.” David whispered to his friend, probably thinking he was being a lot more discreet than he was in reality. “She’s an adult. Adults can’t go trick or treating.”

The look Hilda gave her scared Victoria more than any child should be able to.

“They can if they’re part of our costume.”

_#_#_#_

Victoria all but dragged herself behind them, attempting not to feel like a fool.

“Is this really necessary?” she groaned, being met with Hilda’s fierce affirmation that yes, it was necessary. After they’d struck their agreement, the trio had made her take them to her apartment, where they found her lab gloves and coat and made her wear it. They hadn’t even stopped there, finding her black rain boots and asking her to put them on too.

When they began going to the first houses, she’d felt awkward standing near the children as they asked for candy. Most people ignored her, until one woman, with bright red curly hair and a sweet face chuckled at her.

“Who would you be?” She asked, not mockingly but with curiosity after dropping a large amount of sweets into the children's pumpkins.

Hilda was fast to answer. “She’s Victor Frankenstein!”

“Oh, what a lovely pair you two make!” The woman said, her eyes going back and forth between Hilda and Victoria. “You must be such a dedicated auntie. Here, have some candie as well, you deserve it.”

After putting candies in Victoria’s shelled hands, she wished them a good Halloween and closed her door. The children climbed down from her porch, but Victoria remained where she was, looking awestruck as she stared at her hands.

“Are you okay?” Frida asked, the first to realize Victoria hadn’t moved.

“Yeah, I’m alright. It’s just been a lot of time since I received candy from anyone.”

David tilted his head to the side. “You haven’t eaten candy in a long time?”

“What? No!” Victoria assured him. “I eat more candy than I should, honestly. But it’s different when you get it from someone. Everything is more special when it’s a gift, I suppose.”

“Hey, why don’t we stop and eat some of what we got tonight?” Hilda suggested, and the rest of them agreed eagerly. There was a bench nearby, and they all sat on it. As the kids dug into their pumpkin buckets, making their choice of which sweet to eat first, Victoria unwrapped a sour candy.

“Did you know that sour candies are sour because of the citric acid?” She asked, drawing the kids’ attention. “Like all acids, it has hydrogen ions which activate our tongue’s sour taste receptors! Isn’t this interesting? Of course, this is the same acid we have in some fruits, but to use it in candy you need to make it by fermenting sugar with microorganisms! Not as simple as it seems at first, I’m certain.”

“I thought you were a meteorologist.” David said after a beat.

“I am! But that doesn’t stop me from liking the other sciences as well.”

“That’s so cool, miss Van Gale!” Frida gasped, and Hilda nodded in agreement. “I hope this is not rude to ask… but there are so many things about the science books I read that I don’t understand, and our teacher can never really answer all of them. I was wondering if one day you’d be willing to help me with that?”

“Of course!” Excited at the prospect of having someone to discuss science with, Victoria nodded, happy when the girl looked joyful with her acceptance. “It's always good to revisit topics one hasn’t studied for long. Keeps the brain sharp.”

There was a pen in her labcoat’s pocket, and the woman used it to write her landline’s number on the candy wrap and give it to Frida, so she could call her for them to arrange a day.

“I think we should go.” Hilda sighed, tired because of the late hour but very happy about how her first Halloween in the city was going. “We still have many houses to visit, and I have an idea that might get us even more candy.”

_#_#_#_

“It’s moving…” Victoria uttered in the moment when Hilda, lying down in front of the house’s door, began lifting her hand. The couple that lived in the house watched them with curiosity and wonderment at their makeshift theatre. “It’s alive! It’s moving, it’s alive! In the name of God, now I know what it is like to be God! IT’S ALIVE!”

Abruptly, Hilda lifted her whole torso up, groaning as monstrously as she could. Her two friends giggled, already having received their candy, and the couple clapped at them.

“How frightening!” the woman said, dropping candy into Hilda’s pumpkin. “Happy Halloween and keep up the good work!”

The group left, laughing about how good their acting had been. They’d done it for all the past houses, and everyone who had seen it had loved it, even fellow trick or treaters. Now knowing that they were her favourite, Hilda always gave the sour candies she received to Victoria, and as she separated them from the others David complimented how genuine Victoria had sounded.

“Thank you, David. I have a talent for the dramatic arts, don’t you think?” She boasted mockingly, swiping her hand across her shoulder to push her wild hair back. The boy giggled, the apprehension he’d had of her in the beginning of the night all but gone. Without them even noticing, the resentment each of them had towards the other seemed to have melted away with the time they spent together.

“I just think ‘mad scientist’ comes to you naturally, Victoria.” He retorted, and she brought her hand to her heart in fake outrage, making them all laugh.

“It’s getting really late.” Frida said unwillingly. “I think I’ve got to go home.”

They all looked at the wrist clock Frida was wearing, and Victoria was surprised to find herself sad that her time with the children had come to an end. It made her even more surprised, when she remembered the ghost, that her first thought had been about the children and not about what they’d promised her.

After that, David also sighed and mumbled that he had to go, otherwise his parents might get worried. Hilda didn’t say anything, nor did she look at Victoria.

“I still…” Victoria began. She didn’t want to force kids to stay out past the time they should just to help her, but it seemed like they had forgotten. “I still need to look for the ghost.”

Hilda sighed, the same sigh from hours ago, when they’d found her running around like mad, and she finally looked at Victoria. The woman didn’t like the resignation in her eyes.

Unlike Hilda, when the two other kids looked at her, she could see that the ghost really had slipped from their minds, and that they even felt guilty about it.

“You two go home. I’ll help Victoria find her ‘ghost’.”

They nodded and said good night to both Hilda and Victoria, beginning their walk on the direction they had come from. Something about the way Hilda had said the word “ghost” didn’t sit right with her. If she was being honest, the fact that she’d apparently taken the girl from her happy mood to this silent one didn’t either. She told herself it didn’t matter, they had struck a deal and it wasn’t like she was the girl’s “auntie” like some of the people they saw seemed to think. But even though it didn’t matter, it still made her feel a pang in her chest when the most energetic, positive person she’d seen in years sat down on the concrete edge of the sidewalk.

“I thought you’d let this go.” She muttered, looking at a point in the distance. “I thought that maybe you’d have fun and realize that there’s so much beauty around, especially in te things you can’t control. But I suppose it would be asking for too much, to change a person in a night.”

She whistled suddenly, and Victoria heard the tip-tap of something small coming their way.

“Come here boy!” Hilda exclaimed, and when Victoria looked at the spot Hilda was watching, she saw the same creature she’d seen hours before running her way, and gasped when it happily came into Hilda’s arms.

After picking it up, Hilda turned to her, her face serious. “Is this your ghost?”“It is!” Victoria nodded, her mouth wide in surprise. The biggest surprise, however, came when Hilda lifted the veil from the creature, revealing a white, fluffy looking deerfox.

“Frida wanted to tell you in the beginning of the night. What I said was true, we have had experiences with ghosts, and we know that ghosts don’t wear veils like in the tales. I had dressed Twig up to come with me tonight, but I gave him the command to follow us from afar when I saw you. He must have bumped into you when he was bringing back the stick I threw him. Though he didn’t give me anything, so he mustn’t have been able to find it.” “What?” She gasped, watching Hilda shake her head and get up. “I don’t understand.”

“I know I’m young, Victoria, and I’m still getting used to the whole living in society thing. But there’s one thing I do know that you need to understand. If you keep believing life is a battle, you’ll never stop seeing enemies all around.”

After saying that, she walked away down the same road Frida and David had too. Disappointed, confused and guilty all at the same time, Victoria let herself fall down to the ground, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk.

Though it was the most dangerous night of the year, she was beginning to think she was the only monster around.

[capricornus-rex]

A Path I Can’t Follow (5)

Chapter 5: There’s Always Something Greater | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: It was a matter of life and death—the question is, should it be the life of many or one, the death of many or one? Cal Kestis makes what ought to be the biggest and hardest decision of his life as he is pitted with a question of high stakes and morals. He descends to the Dark Side and becomes an Inquisitor. A choice he openly made for the sake of saving you, even if you didn't know you needed it until it was too late.

Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 | Previous: Chapter 4 | Next: Chapter 6 | Masterlist

5 of ?

There was a pause in their battle. Cal and the Fourth Brother stand in either side of the room. In this predicament, it was a luxury to even have a breather. The two men slowly circled at one another from across the room.

The same questions burned Cal’s mind. He didn’t know which one to ask first. For his benefit of the doubt, he assumed that the Fourth Brother doesn’t know about you—not mentioning you protected you from him in some way—and that he was referring to his female companion who is the Inquisitor you’re currently facing off at this very moment.

“How did you come to know this place?” Cal bellowed, demanding an answer. The Fourth Brother’s silent treatment and grin was beginning to annoy him.

“Why bother knowing such mundane things that can be answered by common sense?”

Knowing that it was hopeless to get a logical and direct answer from him, Cal scoffed in frustration.

“You’re not getting that holocron!” the young Jedi snarled, perseverance burned in him as he pointed his lightsaber at the enemy.

And you’re not getting to her!

This provoked the Fourth Brother, causing him to initiate the duel. Once again, their blades are intercrossed, trapped in another dance of a duel. At this point, Cal had become more aggressive but calculated—timing his Force attacks, mentally coaching himself on what the Fourth Brother’s next move is going to be, and conserving his energy for bigger attacks.

The desire to protect you—and everything you cared about—at all costs was one of Cal’s motivations. Given that the Fourth Brother and his companion is a whole new threat, Cal’s resolve held water.

The Fourth Brother sensed something else from Cal. The aggression combined with a precise coordination proved something of the Jedi. For once in his life, the Inquisitor might be facing someone who could be in the same caliber as his combat skills. He came out of his way to admit—in his mind—that he had underestimated this young boy.

“Oh, you have that fire in you. A glorious inferno!” The Fourth Brother sniggered tauntingly and grinned as he shifted all his weight on a deflecting Cal, their lightsabers’ colors mingling over the gloss of his soulless eyes. “Tell me… what’s your secret?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know!?” Cal snarled back, staggered him away to restart his stance.

“If the Master could see you… Oh! He’d practically take you in our ranks.”

“Don’t count on it!”

Cal retaliated. Gathering up all his Force to send a wave towards the Fourth Brother, he sent the opponent flying and slammed his back hard against the cobblestone wall. However, this wasn’t enough to break the Inquisitor yet. There was still fight in these two men. The duel felt like an eternity.

“Oh, I most definitely will count on it,” the Fourth Brother hissed suggestively.

While on his knees, the Fourth Brother feigned and was mustering up all his energy as well to get back at Cal.

“And so shall the Grand Inquisitor!” he roared, darting through the air towards Cal.

The Fourth Brother threw punches and landed his elbows hard against Cal’s jaw, disorienting the boy, followed by a series of lightsaber attacks. Fortunately, Cal was saved by his armor—the belt straps had been severed and a gash tore the hard leather.

One kick to the rib and the Fourth Brother sends back the same wave towards the Jedi, hoisting up him in the air and throwing him further across their arena. Cal plowed through the ground, denting the silt. The Fourth Brother has gained the upper hand this time.

“If I were you, I’d keep an open mind, Jedi.” The Fourth Brother huffed, slicking back the lock of hair that fell out of place.

Heavy footsteps approached the scene. From the shadows, a second figure appeared. He was unlike anything Cal has ever seen before. He wagered it must be the Grand Inquisitor whom the Fourth Brother mentioned. Tall and gaunt, he walked in the same stride as the Chiss Inquisitor—except he had a thicker air of authority looming about him—yellow eyes glimmered menacingly over a face whose skin was white as bone, red streaks tattooed on his high forehead and the underside of his eyes, lines are literally etched all over his skin.

“Hello… Cal Kestis,” the Pau’an hissed as he spoke.

Cal had this tongue tied. He wasn’t quite sure how and what to respond to that.

“You’re a promising child, I’ll give you that. Nearly at par with one of my best warriors. It’s not every day Ezir meets someone who hasn’t died in the next minute.”

Cal groaned as he tried to move and stand up, with a single abrupt wave of the Grand Inqusitor’s hand, the young Jedi is pinned down by an invisible weight, unable to move. The Pau’an slowly approaches the young man as he spoke.

“I know that—for a Jedi—it’s hard to believe what Fourth Brother is saying. After all, he is an Inquisitor. Why should you trust him? But trust me, he was right on one thing: you ought to keep an open mind. And you listen to what I have to say.”

Cal broke free out of the Force that was holding him down, and struck back at the Grand Inquisitor to which he calmly deflected with his own lightsaber—it was a rather foolish move, brave yet foolish.

“Tsk, I think Ezir didn’t leave with enough fight in you for me,”

“Trust me, I think I have enough for the both of you,” Cal winced.

The Grand Inquisitor burst in a condescending laughter.

“Ah, there it is!”

“What are you going to do with the village?”

“Interesting priority you have there. I won’t go into detail, I take you to be a smart boy. I will deploy all my troops on that sad excuse of a civilization into a garrison. Should they fight back, well,” he scoffed, smirking and imagining the horrendous scene that could possibly take place. “I think you can figure that out for yourself. Just remember the last time you’ve seen an army suddenly storming in and shooting down everyone and everything in sight without question.”

A fire burned within Cal, violently thrashing and flailing within his very core, somewhat revitalizing him. The Grand Inquisitor’s provoking words became a catalyst for Cal’s newfound energy. The boy never ceased to surprise the two Inquisitors. When he was standing close enough, he unlinked his lightsabers and attacked the Grand Inquisitor in a spinning motion. Having known every single lightsaber combat form, the Grand Inquisitor was unfazed at this and easily blocked it all, leaving nary a window of opportunity for the young Jedi—however, Cal’s spirit showed and proved to be invaluable, and it greatly attracted the Grand Inquisitor.

A pity to kill off such a talent. The menacing Pau’an thinks to himself while blocking Cal’s attack with little to no effort.

Meanwhile, you believed to be faring well against the Eighth Sister. The duel continued on, your energy was slowly ebbing—you were exhausted, and so is she—but one of you has to step out as the victor. She was beginning to steal the upper hand. Her litheness never faltered and continued fighting you every last fiber of her being.

The Eighth Sister, still in a brutal frenzy, sending blows at you with such vengeful rage that she got her reward of dealing damage on you. She swung her lightsaber in a diagonal streak, she had hoped she had broken skin—much to her chagrin, she only managed to damage your jacket and armor, and nicked on your shoulder.

“I’ll do better in the next one, girlie!” she screeched.

She prepares herself for the next move, switching on her lightsaber into a spinning mode to lunge right at you—her target was your torso, she had hope to cut you down like ground meat. She thought there’d be absolutely no way for you to get away from that.

The problem with these Inquisitors is that they underestimate the Jedi too much. You thought to yourself, sniggering at the context of the remark.

You managed to push her away from you with the Force, and you sensed that she’s going for another one of her deadly combos the moment she regains her bearings.

Come on, think fast!

Your eyes wandered the entire room. You saw that she was standing between two pillars and a parapet on the verge of breaking hung above her head. Concentrating on the stone fixtures, you quickly extended your hands, your fingers curled into claws, slowly motioning your hands downward the pillars followed your direction—you visualize the parapet crumbling down to the Eighth Sister in your mind, the said beam finally reduced to a large chunk of debris as it all crumbles down onto her.

Clouds of dust gathered and wafted about in the ruin. Everything was quiet again.

“So much for a next one,” you quipped. Finally able to catch your breath.

Little did you know that the rumble of the collapse that you’ve caused thundered across not just in the second level but in the first level as well. It temporarily caught the attention of Cal and the two Inquisitors—each had their own concerns.

“Nahlei…” The Fourth Brother mumbled under his breath.

You tried to take a step forward but you suddenly fell to your knees. You clutched your chest. It seems that the Eighth Sister has done a number on you. The searing pain was still fresh, you can’t go on even if you wanted to. You figured you’d be knocked out cold before you could even actually reach the vault itself.

“Cal…” you muttered under your breath, reaching for your commlink. “Cal… can you hear me?”

Your voice, albeit faint and fading, has reached Cal’s ears. Everyone in the first level foyer has heard the sound of the collapsing stone thundering across the temple.

[Y/N]…! Cal screamed in his thoughts.

“We’ll meet again, Jedi. This isn’t over yet!” the Grand Inquisitor growled as he tossed out a flash bomb out of his pocket and escaped along with the Fourth Brother.

When the white light had dissolved from Cal’s view, he was alone in the foyer.

“They’re gone…” then he gasped, realizing you called to him via the commlink. “[y/n]!”

He rummaged his person to switch on the earpiece of his commlink.

“[y/n], are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah…” you winced and groaned. “No, not really.”

“Hold on, I’m coming to you. Where are you?”

“I’m in…” your deep breaths popped and cracked through the speaker of the comm. Even only speaking made you feel sore. “In the sanctum up ahead from the lobby, from the lobby… where we came in from. I didn’t get to the holocron, I’m sorry.”

Cal’s heart ached as the sound of your sobs overtaking your shaky voice.

“Don’t worry, I’m coming to get you. Just stay there and find someplace to hide. The Inquisitors are here,”

“No kidding, one did a number on me,”

“Stay put. I’m coming,”

“Hurry, Cal… please, it hurts…”

The young Jedi, fleet-footed as he is, scaled the vine-ridden wall and finds himself standing in the east wing of the second level. Long vines hung between the wide gaps, they bridged his path from one point to the other. When the view of the circular lobby was in sight, he sprinted across the dead halls and went to the left—where you ought to be. He entered the conclave and saw the pile of rocks that were once pillars and a parapet sitting in one side of the room. You were sitting on the ground, leaning against the fountain’s base while clutching your shoulder.

“[y/n]!” he exclaimed, his voice was mixed with relief—that you’re alive—and worried about your wounds.

“Cal…” you weakly mumbled.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here,”

“You’re hurt too…” you gasped, reaching for the tear across his armor.

“It’s nothing. Come on,”

He scooped you up in his arms, careful not to hit any of the spots where it hurts you, and cradled you close to him like a baby. A weak arm hooked over his shoulder, you tried your best to hold on tight to him.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t…”

“Shhh, it’s not your fault, hon. It’s not your fault,” he cooed, nuzzling his cheek against your hair.

He sprinted through the lobby, jumped over the gaps, the weight of you in his arms was nothing. Since you weren’t able to move well without hurting yourself, Cal managed to find an alternate exit. He leapt up in the air towards a platform where a gaping hole in the wall leads back to the outside world—the only problem is that the landing was probably a twenty-foot drop.

“Hold on tight to me, okay, [y/n]?”

You nodded weakly, you raised your good arm and held on tight on his chest, feebly clutching onto the fabric of his jumpsuit before makes the leap of faith. The Varans have heard him and they croaked at the sight of Cal. He was relieved that your mounts were still there, untouched and unscathed. Your Varan specifically anxious at the scent of cauterized blood and flesh—Varans were omnivorous creatures, but your connection with the animal did not stimulate its hunger, the creature perceived you as a companion and master. It sniffed your person and shook its head as it croaked in alarm.

“She can’t ride,” Cal spoke to the animal and mounted you on his Varan instead. “You’ll have to catch up with us.”

The reins of your Varan were long enough to tether it with Cal’s reins so it won’t stray without a rider. He secures you with both of his arms acting like a harness, letting you lean against him for the rest of the trip, and takes the reins. Fortunately enough, the Varans maintained a similar pace as Cal rode through the wasteland, on the way back to the village—given that it was the nearest place of shelter for the two of you.

Back at the temple, in the rubble where the Eighth Sister was buried alive in, it turns out that the female Inquisitor was never felled by you.

A fist tore through the debris and she pulled herself out of her supposed grave. She comes out growling, cold blue eyes blazing with a vengeance, her juvenile behavior might be the only thing that died in that collapse. She was rejoined by Ezir—namely, the Fourth Brother—as well as the Grand Inquisitor.

“I hope you can walk that off, Nahlei,” the Fourth Brother quipped.

“When I find that bitch, I’ll make sure she’ll never have to walk at all!” she roared.

The Grand Inquisitor smirked at the young woman’s remark.

Good, her hate didn’t die off with the rubble.

“Conserve that rage for another time, Eighth Sister, you will have the chance of utilizing that in the most opportune moment.”

“It would be my immense pleasure, Grand Inquisitor,”

“Come. We still have much to discuss about those Jedi,”

The pair followed the Grand Inquisitor back to their ship, eager to lay out the plans they have in mind for this planet and for you and Cal.

[eirian-houpe]

Disparate Pathways - Chapter 18

Read previous chapters on AO3

Chapter 18 - Storybrooke

There was a distinct chill in the air as Gold stepped out of the sheriff’s office and he pulled up the collar of his overcoat before turning his steps in the direction of the diner. He hadn’t intended to call in, meaning instead to go straight to his shop, but what he’d read on Sheriff Swan’s computer - and had forwarded to his own Email before disconnecting - gave him cause to change his plans.

It was entirely possible that one or other of them was hurt, possibly both, and while he was tempted just to let Milnor fend for himself in that department, if the help he needed was for the governor’s daughter, he couldn’t allow lingering harm to come to the fairer sex. He never had, and he never would. Not so long as he had breath in his body. He sighed. In that respect he and the FBI agent were the same. Gallant, protective… paternal

Gold frowned, wondering where the last thought had come from. He was aware that Milnor had a child. A daughter if he recalled correctly, and that he had lost the girl’s mother not long after the child was born. As such, through all the time that the agent had been undercover he had been separated from his daughter, and that, he knew, was a pure and living hell. Add to that the nature of Duneach’s organization and he wondered at the man’s sanity. Not for nothing had he called Jefferson Milnor, ‘Hatter.’  He pulled out his phone, typed and sent a swift text message, and then called in to Granny’s Diner for a coffee to go.

‘To go’ wasn’t his style either, but as the saying went, needs must when the devil drives, and he had to get to the hospital before Whale got wind of his coming and made a quick escape through the back door. He and the doctor had a tumultuous relationship at best, and like many people in Storybrooke, Victor Whale was beholden to him. So it was that he decided not to enter the hospital by the front door, but via the ambulance bay. It was closer to Whales office.

Gold was well aware he had no business being in that part of the hospital, neither did he care. Storybrooke, for him, was pretty much an open door. Hard to lock doors against people that held the keys. Gold did. After many years, and much capital, there were few places, or people, he didn’t own in some way - either because of their rent, or because something of theirs graced one of the shelves of his pawn shop.

“A moment, Victor,” he said, holding up a gloved hand one finger raised, as the doctor was too slow to escape his notice. The other man stopped and turned slowly.

“Mister Gold, is everything all right?”

As an opening gambit, Gold had to admit that while it wasn’t terribly original, it was at least a logical one. He nodded to the doctor, not to answer his question, but to let the man know that he had ‘scored a point’ in their little mental tete-a-tete. There was no love lost.

“For the moment,” he answered, then, “but it may be that I will need to collect on that debt that you owe me, some time in the near future.”

“Oh?” Whale quirked an eyebrow in query.

Gold shrugged, “A house call. Perhaps a prescription, no questions asked.”

“Now look, Gold,” Whale began, but Gold raised a hand, palm out in a placatory gesture.

“The truth is, Doctor, I do not yet know if, nor the extent to which, I may require your assistance,” Gold looked around him, and then glanced in the direction he knew the parking lot to be. “I was simply giving you the courtesy of a ‘heads up.’”

“Gold…”

“After all, I’d hate anything to happen that might come between you and the,” Gold poured on the sarcasm, “lovely, little, red sports car of yours…”

“Now see here…!” Whale rose to the bait. “I’m paid up to date on that loan, there’s nothing you can do abo—”

“…say, the terms and conditions of the repayment of interest.”

“You’re a piece of work, Gold,” Whale spat.

“So I’m told,” he answered, unperturbed by the doctor’s outburst. “But you will be ready, should I call on you.”

Without another word, or waiting for the doctor’s acknowledgment of the inescapable fact he had just spoken, Gold turned, and left the hospital for his next port of call.

**

It was rather like retracing his steps, as the person he needed to speak to was the diner’s proprietress’ granddaughter, but he could think of no one else he could ask, and trust to their discretion. He and Miss Lucas had history, after all, as he had gotten her out of trouble on a number of occasions. Not out of the goodness of his heart, but because of his absolute insistence on seeing justice served. She hadn’t deserved the charges that had been brought against her, and he was well enough acquainted with the law to be able to defend her more than admirably. Besides, having done so meant that she, too, owed him a few favors, and he was ready to collect.

“What’s the matter, Gold,” Widow Lucas called out as he entered the diner. “Coffee not good enough for you this morning?”

Widow Lucas - Granny, as everyone in Storybrooke seemed to call her - had several bones of contention to pick with him, not the least of which was that she owed him a good deal of money for the rent on the Bed and Breakfast she ran in addition to the diner. He was inclined to be lenient with her in regards to her attitude, so long as she paid that rent on time. As such their relationship was very volatile.

“On the contrary, dearie,” he purred as he limped toward one of the booths toward the back of the diner. “It was so good that I felt I must come by for seconds.”

Widow Lucas snorted a huff, and turned up a white mug from the tray beside her and set about pouring steaming hot, black coffee into it, before setting it on the counter, and nodding at her granddaughter to bring it to him.

Ruby Lucas had a bright red extension tied into her hair, and judging from the amount of make-up that still lingered around her eyes, he ascertained that she had not gotten home from The Rabbit Hole with enough time to spare to change. He ignored the fact that her skirt was shorter than her apron, as this was quite usual for the rebellious young woman.

She managed to set his coffee down in front of him with only the faintest of thumps, and no spillage, for which he was grateful. He hated having to mop up the run before it spilled off of the uneven table and onto the pants of his suit.

“Anything to go with that?” Miss Lucas asked, folding her arms as she waited for his answer.

He offered a rare smile, rather akin to the kind a hyena gave before biting its prey’s throat. “Merely the pleasure of your company,” he said. “A moment of your time, if I may.”

“Can’t,” she snapped. “I’m working.”

“Oh, but I insist,” he said, just as smoothly, but with a slight edge to his voice, especially as he pointed at the bench opposite him and said, “Sit.”

She rolled her eyes in protest, but as instructed, slipped in to the booth’s other seat, and then once more crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well?” she asked, when Gold said nothing. He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. “I haven’t got all day. I told you. I’m working.”

“So you did,” he said and sat back in his seat. “Forgive me, it’s a delicate matter, and I’m not sure how to approach the subject, to be honest.” He watched as Ruby frowned, giving her enough time to get lost in the intrigue of his words, before he said. “I need your assistance.”

She barked out a half laugh, until she evidently realized that he was serious, and then he saw her eyebrows shoot up toward her hair.

“Seriously?” she asked. “How can I possibly help you?”

“I’m expecting a visitor, a guest,” he began, adding with a dismissive wave of his hand, “a friend of a friend.”

“Okay?” she said slowly, and he could almost hear her wondering what that had to do with her.

“She’s coming here because she’s just walked out on a rather… difficult domestic situation,” he continued, watching the nuances of Ruby’s face as she put the pieces together. “Simply… walked away,” he finished.

It amused him, somewhat, to think of it in those terms, because he knew that there wasn’t so much ‘walking,’ in her get-away, as running and dodging bullets along the way. He knew the difference would irritate Jefferson immensely, and privately reveled in it.

“So, you’re saying she’s going to need stuff,” Ruby said.

“I’d rather like to have some things for her when she arrives, yes,” he said. “If you wouldn’t mind helping.”

“Well of course I don’t mind, but—”

Gold reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a thick envelope on the front of which he’d written all the information he’d managed to research about the governor’s daughter. It was bound not to be entirely accurate, but at least it would give Miss Lucas something to go on.

“I’ve taken the liberty of writing down her details, such as I have,” he interrupted, “And I think you’ll find there is sufficient money to cover whatever purchases you make.”

He slid the envelope across the table toward Ruby, and kept his face impassive as he watched her picked it up, her eyes widening slightly as she rifled through the contents with the flick of her thumb, before looking up at him.

“Whatever you don’t use,” he told her, “you may keep… to cover your expenses. In addition, I believe we can consider my fee for your last appearance in court… paid in full.”  He left barely a beat before adding. “Do we have a deal?”

“Wha— Yes, yes of course,” Ruby finally looked up from studying the envelope and its contents to tell him, “I can take care of it when I get off work today.”

“Excellent,” he nodded, and began to slide along the seat toward the exit of the booth.

“Should I bring it by the shop later?” she asked.

“I won’t be opening the shop today,” he said. “If it isn’t too much trouble, could you drop it by the house this evening?” He stood, steadying himself with his cane and preparing to go as she answered him in the affirmative. Then, as he took the first step he stopped, and looked back over his shoulder to catch Ruby’s eye. “And Miss Lucas? I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that discretion is of the utmost importance.”

**

Leroy could wait.

Gold spent some moments weighing up how his time would be better spent, and since Jefferson and his rescued hostage had been on the run for a over twelve hours, there was a matter more pressing to which Gold felt obliged to attend. It wasn’t that long of a drive to the cabin and regardless of the time that he arrived, Gold was sure that MacCalmain would be there waiting for him; no doubt putting in some handy-work around the place.

Before he left town, he checked in the glove compartment of the Cadillac for an essential item that he would need to give to his tall, loyal associate in case the inevitable happened sooner, rather than later. It was there. The whole deck was there, although he only needed the one card. That done, he picked up his dinner order from Marco’s and made his way out of town and onto the country road that led to the single track driveway to the cabin.

As he’d suspected, MacCalmain was there, with his truck, engaged in cutting back one of the nearby holly bushes that was encroaching on the windows at the side of the single storey structure. The man straightened as Gold drew to a halt, and replaced the secateurs into the tool roll that was resting on the lid of the nearby wood-box.

Gold offered him a smile as he approached the man. “Good of you to come,” he said.

In answer, MacCalmain pulled the cell phone from his pocket and pointed at it, and then at Gold.

“Yes, I sent you a text,” Gold confirmed. “I have… a job for you. Very important. Extremely delicate.”

“I’ll help,” MacCalmain signed. “What do you need.”

“There’s a family just outside of Boston,” Gold handed over a piece of paper, on it was printed an address, and the candid pictures of the family that didn’t even know they were being photographed. “This address,” he said as he handed them over. “I’m not really interested in the family, though I trust you’ll keep them safe if you can.”

MacCalmain shrugged, and Gold’s face hardened. Not in anger, but because he knew the other man’s shrug was not indifference, but practicality. If Gold was sending him out to watch over someone in the family then it likely meant that there was trouble, and the kind of trouble that followed Gold around was the kind of trouble that got people killed. MacCalmain knew that.

“The girl though,” Gold went on, remembering the babe in arms that had squalled all the way from Chicago O’hare to the mid-Atlantic where she finally fell asleep on he father’s chest, and remained asleep all through the landing in Glasgow. More though, he had remembered the haunted look in that father’s eyes, the way he desperately tried to give his daughter his all; his full attention. He had no doubt the man would give her his soul if he had to - and that was why Gold acted as he did. That father had freed his son, though had not necessarily saved him; a youth for whom Gold would, and almost had, given his own.

Bae, though unresponsive, still lived, and where there was life, there was hope.

“I want you to watch her, watch out for her,” Gold continued, pulling himself back from his introspection. “If anyone comes sniffing around; police, other law enforcement agencies,” he voice darkened, “anyone not law enforcement, don’t wait. She’s in danger, and you bring her to me.”

MacCalmain nodded, and picked up the tool roll, evidently meaning to set out right away, but then he frowned as Gold held out a single playing card in the man’s direction. Hesitantly he took it.

“I don’t want the girl terrified, or to think you mean her ill, so when you can - as soon as you can, you give her that card, do you understand? She’ll know what it means.”

MacCalmain nodded again, though shifted his doubt filled gaze down onto the playing card in his hand: the joker - The White Rabbit.

[raptured-night]

7&34?

Oh, yay! Thanks for the ask @snapeling!

7. What is your most self-indulgent Snape headcanon? No, your MOST self-indulgent headcanon. That one

I’ve read so many imaginative answers to this one, even a really lovely short about Snape surviving the Battle of Hogwarts to become a bee-keeper. I absolutely adored that one because I have long nursed a little headcanon about Snape as a retired teacher turned bee-keeper in the style of Sherlock Holmes. 

That being said, my most self-indulgent Snape headcanon has long been that the man who once spoke so mesmerizingly about being able to “put a stopper in death” to a class of rapt first-years was also able to have the foresight to be able to survive Nagini’s attack. Rowling laid the foundation for it to be possible and there was enough vagueness surrounding his death in the book that one could easily imagine scenarios where Snape survives and carves a better place for himself in the wizarding world post-war or he succeeds in faking his own death and quietly leaves the wizarding community of the UK behind for a fresh start elsewhere. In the latter scenario, everyone (or mostly everyone depending on if I’m feeling the idea of someone helping him fake his death or him managing it on his own) assumes he died and that his portrait didn’t just appear among the other Hogwarts’ headmasters because they believe he had “abandoned his post” but when his portrait (assuming Harry had one installed in his honor) suddenly comes to life and begins talking many decades later they realize the truth --the real reason that it had not appeared that night is because Severus Snape had not yet died. 

I often go back-and-forth between what life he might make for himself in a scenario where he survives and the wizarding community of the UK is aware of it and the ones in which he survives and fakes his death. In AUs were Snape remains in the wizarding world of the UK and people know he survived I tend to see his life as more fraught with challenges but eventually stabilizing into something better than what he had before. I suspect the people’s views of him would be something similar to what we see of the fandom, in the sense, it might be a varied mix of public acceptance, hatred, and so on. There would be people who overly romanticize him and his role during the war and, to Snape’s own chagrin, seek to make him out to be far more of a tragic victim of circumstance than he would care to be seen as (he might balk at the odd marriage offer he gets from witches in the mail, expressions of sympathy bordering more pity, and even embarrassing assumptions about his sex life and offers, should he wish it, to “lose his virginity” or find comfort in willing arms). There would be others who might urge the Ministry to bring him up on charges and revile him even in the face of Harry’s or other people’s public defense because they just refuse to believe that the man who killed Dumbledore and usurped his position as Headmaster for over a year is anything other than a villain who managed to save his own skin and pull the wool over people’s eyes. 

In the aftermath of the war, and with so much recent loss and fear, Snape would bear the brunt of their outcry for more vengeance (some with the thinly veiled prejudice that didn’t completely die with Voldemort that an “ugly half-blood who came from nothing” could have killed a great wizard like Dumbledore and fooled so many) under the guise of justice and they would project their collective trauma onto him. There would also be survivors of the war who came from families of Death Eaters and said Death Eaters who again slip away from justice that view Snape as either a traitor of the most extreme kind or as a curiosity. Was this man truly so capable an Occlumens that he could conceal from everyone, including Voldemort, his true beliefs and loyalties for so long, or had he successfully managed to play both sides of the war to secure himself a place with whichever side proved to be the victor? Ultimately, I see where his detractors would also be convinced, as many Snaters are, that whatever connection he had to Harry’s mother was something seedy and Snape would have to contend with their hatred. 

Oddly, I see him finding those who revile him easier to reconcile (aside from their assumptions about Lily and what relationship he had with her) than his “fans” who might send him love letters and cast him as some Byronic hero. Largely because he has had to contend with being loathed for much of his life and it’s familiar territory. Being made into a romantic figure or even earning the respect of some people would be new territory he would have to learn to cope with. Learning how to tell the difference between admiration and romanticization, sympathy and pity, etc., would be a rocky course to navigate. I also see a tense and uncomfortable post-war relationship with many of his colleagues at Hogwarts. Their guilt over not trusting him would be difficult for him to contend with; they only believed what he and Dumbledore intended for them to believe. I think a bitter part of him might even privately feel that the guilt some of them felt for believing the worst of him came too little too late and would have been better served during his youth when so many of them seemed to have written him off and turned a blind eye to the Marauder’s bullying. He might be more inclined to avoid those of his colleagues who insist on dwelling on their guilt and rehashing his time as Headmaster. 

For that reason, I have never seen him returning to Hogwarts as very likely. I do indulge in some thought of him and McGonagall eventually coming to an understanding after a few difficult conversations, some of which might be carried out in person over uncomfortable tea or stiffer drinks and some of which might occur through initially tense correspondences that eventually begin to veer off into more comfortable territory and lengthy discussions of topics that have nothing at all to do with the war as time passes. I also like the thought of Snape returning long enough to speak his peace to Dumbledore’s portrait. He would learn Dumbledore had tried to lay the groundwork for him to survive (he intended him to gain possession of the Elder Wand to offer him some protection and not to single him out to be killed but things did not go according to his best-laid plans); he wasn’t just a spy tossed out into the cold with no hope of being saved by a man who didn’t see him as more than a pawn in a much bigger game. Still, there are conversations that need to be had (such as why, from his perspective, Dumbledore once looked at a young Sirius Black and saw a boy who could still be saved even after his attempt at murder but could see nothing more in him than a lost cause to give up on) that Snape was unable to have with Dumbledore while he was still alive when they were still in the middle of a looming war other concerns, by necessity, took priority. 

Those conversations would be difficult and painful but Snape would find that there was still catharsis to be found in the opening of old wounds when they had been left to fester so they could properly begin to heal. In such an AU, my most self-indulgent headcanon is one where Snape learns to take the reigns on his life and become his own master; he makes peace with his demons (for the most part) and allows the ghosts of his past to finally rest. Most importantly, he begins to plan for a future that is his own and reflect on what that means for him. I imagine a Snape that becomes better adjusted (as we see in Cursed Child) in terms of how he copes with his trauma. He would retire from Hogwarts and, finally, relocate from Spinner’s End to make a quiet but contended living for himself in a more comfortable flat or cottage home full of walls lined by shelves of books by applying the knowledge he has acquired over the course of many years not as an over-worked and frustrated teacher who doesn’t enjoy directly working with a classroom but as a prolific writer of educational textbooks on everything from Potions brewing for novice to advance brewers to treaties on defenses against Dark Arts so undeniably valuable they become standard syllabus at Hogwarts and amongst would-be Aurors at the Ministry. 

In AUs where Snape leaves wizarding Britain behind him and fakes his death, the catharsis does not come easily. It’s a process of learning to accept leaving his past behind him, even if parts of it remain unresolved and open-ended, and finding peace in the new life he forges for himself. I like the idea of him leading a private life in another country. Often I imagine him in places like Tangier in Morroco, or Turkey, or Thebes in Egypt, Ethiopia, or Sudan, etc., places steeped in history or at the very cradle of civilization or in places lush with potentially useful and undiscovered species of flora, fauna, or species of magical creature that could be used in potions brewing, such as Indonesia, Malaysia, or Brunei (which share access to the rain forest in Borneo) or Brazil. In this headcanon, Snape would spend his days conducting research into obscure or ancient magical texts, studying potential new magical ingredients for potions, or even rediscovering old ways of brewing lost to many, and making a new name for himself as a talented Potioneer writing under an assumed name. 

I like to imagine this Snape as benefiting from his time outside of the UK; his skin would pick up some color from his time spent outdoors in a warmer climate and if he always remained more on the side of slender he would not be so thin as to seem malnourished. He would gain a healthy bit of mass from his ventures and while he would always be a “substance over beauty” sort, the positive benefits of this new life would be evident through the changes in his appearance and overall demeanor. Enough so that when he came across a person from his past unexpectedly while they were on vacation his appearance and general baring were so altered that they would look right past him and wouldn’t realize until many decades later (by which time Snape would have lived to a ripe old age for a wizard and they too would have begun to feel the evidence of their own advancing years), when Snape’s portrait suddenly came to life among the Hogwarts’ Headmasters and began talking, as a sudden shocking afterthought that the person they had seen had been none other than Severus Snape --wrongly presumed dead after the Battle of Hogwarts and remembered by many witches and wizards, particularly The Boy Who Lived, as the bravest man any of them had ever known. 

34. Pick out a chapstick/lipstick for Snape.

I may be breaking the rules a bit with this one but I have two answers, one serious and more thoughtful and one that just amuses me.

The serious answer is that I could headcanon Snape using a chapstick made from beeswax. It would be colorless (and if it had any flavor then he might indulge in a honey flavor or even a honey lemon flavor, which has the added bonus of being comforting and settling the stomach against any nausea) and protect his lips against chapping as a result of alternating between the colder temperatures of the dungeons and the heat of cauldron flames. This also ties into my favored headcanon of a Snape who keeps bees and finds economical uses for beeswax and honey. 

As an aside, I like using the Burt’s Bees products myself (the company does aim to be cruelty-free and doesn’t test on animals which is a deciding factor in all of the cosmetic products I purchase, although their subsidiary company Clorox, which bought them out in 2007, does do animal testing with some of their products so it’s a bit of a murky territory where you have to debate if supporting one company’s cruelty-free policies balances against the fact their parent company does do animal testing or not; additionally many of the ingredients in their products are also naturally sourced, if not vegan for those who prefer cosmetic products that are both cruelty-free and vegan) and I occasionally indulge when I can afford the extra expense, so there’s that as well. 

The funny answer is there is a brand of lipstick by Jeffree Star Cosmetics called Unicorn Blood and another by Too Faced called Unicorn Tears. Either of those sound as if they could be ingredients in a potion, so I could easily imagine our favorite Potions Master getting a sardonic kick out of using them. 

[spaceokase]

Mutual Faith

Tiamat was new to Zephrine’s life, at least as far as Zephrine knew, and she was mysterious, wondrous and terrifying all at once. She was a stranger, vast and unknowable, yet there was a familiarity to her that made Zephrine feel at home. Despite everything, she trusted her, and made no attempt to resist as the goddess took a large, draconic hand and lifted her chin with a firm, yet gentle precision. She tilted her face upwards so Zephrine could look into her eyes, dark, ethereal and full of twinkling stars.

“Zephrine, I see someone who is smart, who is beautiful, who will achieve great things. You have nothing to fear from failure, my child. You will become whoever you wish to be, and this world will be better for it.”

In that moment, Zephrine believed her, and she let that carry her onward even when the darker realities of the material plane reasserted themselves.

******

Encore’s response to her new faith was expected, in some respects. The siren made no secret of his distaste for gods, or anyone with authority really, so his distrust of someone who was both of these things was hardly surprising. His distrust of the one responsible for the mark appearing on Zephrine’s arm, even indirectly, was even less so.

“I doubt the veracity of her claims, I doubt her intentions and I don’t like how this was thrust upon you. But if there’s anyone who can and will use the powers given to them for good, it’s you.”

As the wind swirled between them and the glow of the setting sun surrounded them on the airship, Zephrine solemnly smiled and thanked him for trusting her. Only months later, however, did she fully appreciate the gesture he had made, and the sentiment of his words.She would take note to try her best to remember his faith in her, even when they disagreed with each other.

******

Therila looked thoughtful, as she often did, when Zephrine asked if her newfound faith bothered her. She answered in her usual forthright manner, never one to dance around the opinions of others.

“It still does, a bit. I don’t really have much time for the gods at the best of times, and Tiamat doesn’t have the reputation she does without reason. I don’t believe in her, and I doubt I ever will. But I believe in you, Zephrine.”

As if she had anticipated that it wasn’t exactly the response her partner was hoping for, Therila punctuated the last sentence by cupping Zephrine’s cheek with her hand. They bore the roughness of someone who spent the majority of their life outdoors, and her touch was firm, carrying Therila’s unwavering certainty with it. Zephrine found herself melting into her caress, and she felt the warmth in her chest spread, faith and love mixed seamlessly into one. 

*****

Helena’s faith in Zephrine was incredibly slow to start, in no small part due to Zephrine herself. Zephrine had done herself no favors when they met, pushing the tiefling away, finding her cloying, too childish and too naive to be reliable in any capacity. It was only after their experiences in Galindan’s tomb that things began to change, when Zephrine saw that Helena was in fact incredibly capable, and Helena saw that despite Zephrine’s past behavior and newfound deity, she was not an evil person. They spoke about it shortly after, as Helena aired what was running through her thoughts.

“I had my doubts about working with you again, but after what the temple guardian said, I realize I don’t have the full picture. There’s more to Tiamat, and there’s more to you, too. I know we haven’t always gotten along, but after everything in that tomb, with everything that’s happened… I trust you implicitly.”

It was at that point, as Zephrine smiled in response, that they found they both had common ground. They both wanted to be better people, and ultimately, they both wanted to help others. As they embraced in the morning sun, apologizing for past transgressions and vowing to treat each other better going forward, it was a promising sign that no matter how poorly things started, they always had a chance to change for the better.

*****

Lazuli looked sheepish when Zephrine made her recent ire known. The khenra woman clearly felt somewhat bad for spilling her secret, but her explanation for the slip-up was earnest. Lazuli often was earnest, almost to a fault, which Zephrine was very quickly discovering in their brief time together.

"It's easy to forget how people see Her when you're such a good example of what she stands for." 

Those words made Zephrine’s anger dissipate, gone in an instant with the gentle breeze that blew between them. Lazuli’s mistake might cost them later, but it was hard to stay upset when it was just that. A mistake. Being referred to as a good example of Tiamat’s principles quite possibly helped evaporate the frustration as well. Just possibly. Maybe. Either way, Lazuli’s words were important, and Zephrine would do her best to carry them with her.

*****

Surina’s response to Zephrine’s declaration that she would use her status as Hierarch for good was surprising at the time, though in retrospect, perhaps it shouldn’t have been. Surina had been with Zephrine through thick and thin, after all, and gone far beyond what she could ever ask of her or anyone else. The Scalepeeler brought Zephrine's fears and insecurities to the surface, but it couldn't destroy her love for Surina, just as it couldn't destroy Surina’s love for her, despite its best efforts.  

“I believe you will, too.”

All Zephrine could do was smile warmly and thank her in response. She knew that Surina’s faith and trust was hard-earned, and she knew that to have Surina declare it outright was even more so. Zephrine treasured it, and promised herself to never take that faith, that trust, or their friendship for granted.

****

There were others who entrusted Zephrine with their lives, others who believed in her and believed in her cause. There were those she’d saved, like Nat’s parents, or the people of Moonshadow, who didn’t know about her faith at all, but had faith in her. There were those she’d saved that knew everything and still believed in her, like Victor Garland, or Yara or Otyl. There were even those who didn’t know her personally, but knew her situation yet clearly saw something worth trusting, even a little, like High Cleric Efferil, or even, Zephrine started to suspect, Revered Mother Cothique, before her passing.

It was easy to forget that amongst the personal struggles, the greater tragedies and the distrust from those she didn’t know. It was so simple, so easy to focus on the negativity around her despite all the positives that it was genuinely distressing. Zephrine found herself lost in the despair of it without even realizing, and it had gotten bad enough that she genuinely believed her friends had lost faith in her. How could they not, after all, when Zephrine barely had faith in herself?

It took seeing Surina suffer under her possession, the realization that she had been suffering while Zephrine was oblivious and wallowing in her own despair, for Zephrine to understand  just how wrong this mindset was. Her god believed in her, enough to encourage her to claim her destiny. Her love believed in her, trusting her to accomplish her goals even in her absence. Her friends believed in her, staying with her even when things were at their darkest. Her god was practically all-knowing, and her lover? Her friends? They were amazing, talented, hard-working people. They were kind, and they were smart. They were good people, incredible people, and they believed in her. With how capable they were, would they really believe in someone who wasn’t worthy of that faith?

The answer should have been obvious, but now, instead of beating herself up for not realizing sooner, she let it lift her spirits higher. Instead of despairing, her heart soared. These wonderful, beautiful people of incredible merit that she believed in with all her heart, believed in her.

Never again would she let herself forget that.

[neutral-nobody]

Family

A/N: Yeah I had no idea what I was doing when I started this. But that’s okay. I’m just trying to make sure I keep writing.

Synopsis: Various conversations about those related to the trainees.

Word Count: 4478

Virus world belongs to @voiceoflarka

It poured and poured outside, the rain providing a gentle ambience in the twilight at Dashland Academy. Suv, Xav and Liadan were currently out on a shopping trip for dorm supplies, after a big binge of snack eating courtesy of a marathon of Haha.. Unless? that had lasted most of the day before. Victor and Nao were also out, Victor having agreed to take Nao out for some one on one training. Nao had been itching for something to do, so Victor promised to make this worth his while. This left Mana and Mu in the dorm together, TV on in the background that Mana was watching. The news was on, something about an escaped criminal in the Victorian District. Mu was pretty sure one of his siblings was looking into that, so he didn’t pay the story too much mind. He could ask for details later.

Instead, he was thinking about why he had gotten Mana alone in the first place. How to best approach the conversation. As he continued to think about it, Mana noticed the slightly stressed look on his face.

“Are you okay? You look nervous.”

“Me? Nervous? No...” Mu trailed off, looking at her. “I just... I wanted to ask you about something.”

“Um... okay?” Mana seemed confused, but she nodded and smiled at him. She turned the TV off to pay full attention. “Ask away.”

Mu took a deep breath, steadying himself for what he knew was coming. He then asked the question.

“Why don’t you talk about your family, Mana?”

It was a loaded question. One she wasn’t expecting to hear, that he could tell. She fidgeted with her jacket and looked forward, refusing to meet his eye.

“Not like you go into detail about yours...”

“Well, not entirely,” Mu admitted, shifting in his seat. “But I still mention them. And tell you stuff when you pester me-”

“I do not pester-”

“Yes, you do,” he cut her off, a smirk now on his face she couldn’t help but smile back at. “Just the other day you were asking about Tare and what kind of flowers he likes.”

“To be fair I was doing that for Liadan,” Mana said. “Since she was too chicken to ask.”

“But I still answered,” Mu sighed, and tried to get her to look at him again. “Any time we ask you we get nothing. All we know is you’ve got a niece... what was her name again.”

“Hachpi.”

“Right, Hachpi,” Mu nodded, but Mana still wasn’t looking at him. She folded her arms and huffed.

“Why are you interrogating me about this,” her tone was a lot harsher than Mu was expecting. “And not Nao? He doesn’t talk about his family either.”

“Well...” Mu looked away for a moment. “I’m still trying to move past... you know...”

“Fight Club?”

“Fight Club.”

Mu sighed again as his gaze returned to Mana, investigating her body language. He could tell this line of conversation was not going to get very far, but even still, it was something he needed to address. Family was a point of conversation that came up a lot with this team. All of them had their own issues with it; he knew Suv had some problems that caused him to leave Poseidon Academy, Xav of course had his sister at their Academy who had somehow found out about him and Victor, Liadan had mentioned her mothers in on several occasions but did not go into detail on their relationship, leaving him unsure either way. That left Mana and Nao who barely spoke a word on the topic.

Victor had agreed to talk to Nao about it, since the incident with Nectar had left a hefty dent in Mu’s relationship with him. Things were of course getting better, but that was still a huge betrayal of trust that Mu was working through. He needed some time, and Nao was being respectful enough to give that to him. Well, as respective as Nao could be, of course, he was still boisterous and ready to tease everyone in this team. He knew he had to toe the line for now at least. In turn, Mu had agreed to speak to Mana about it, Victor agreeing this was the best plan of action. 

He thought about his family; his extended line-up of siblings and parents. How he would put everything on the line for them, just how much he loved them. The idea that Mana had reasons not to feel that way about hers. The idea she wanted no family at all. And the idea of this eevee virus feeling this way?

That hurt him. He still couldn’t quite believe it, but it hurt him to think that she might have no one to call family.

“Mu...” Mana whispered to him, waving a hand in his face. He blinked out of his stupor, realising he’d been quiet for a few minutes.

“Sorry... I got distracted...”

“You look like you had a lot on your mind,” Mana said, standing up. “Shall I leave you to it? I’ll go see what Nao and Victor are-”

“Oh no you don’t,” Mu chided, grabbing her arm and pulling her back down on the couch with him. Mana pulled her arm away and crossed them again.

“It was worth a try...” she mumbled.

“You can’t go find Nao and Victor because they’re busy having the same conversation we’re about to,” Mu explained. 

“Oh, so they’re having a forced interrogation as well?”

“Does it seem like I’m forcing you to talk, Mana?” Mu asked, somewhat forcefully. Mana finally met his gaze, and he continued. 

“Please, I understand this is a touchy subject. I just... I feel like you and Nao need to talk through this.”

“Trying to play the mentor and counsel us through our feelings?”

“Mana!”

The two glared at each other. Mu couldn’t believe she was acting in such a manner. Of all the trainees, she was the one he got along with the most. He was close with the others, but Mana was the one to pull him back after everything that happened with Nao and Nectar. To see her acting so snidely was really throwing him for a loop. He hadn’t expected her to take it well, but this?!

Mu took a deep breath and exhaled sharply, before turning away from her and turning the TV back on. Mana blinked a few times in confusion, waiting for him to say something. Mu had seen this behaviour in his siblings before; acting like a cornered animal when confronted and lashing out at those asking him. Hell, he’d been guilty of it in the past as well. So, he figured he would give Mana some space, see if he could coax something, anything out of her.

“If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine, but I think you should.”

The two just sat together in silence, watching and waiting for one to crack. Mu for some answers, Mana for him to give up and leave her alone.

---

“Left, right, triple jab, uppercut!”

Victor was calling out moves that Nao had to follow. Boxing gloves on, he did as instructed and punched at the mitts Victor was wearing. It had taken some coaxing to make Nao wear gloves instead of just crystallising his fists, but Victor eventually got him to simmer down. This was a training session after all. Even with the gloves, Victor could tell just how strong Nao was. After a few more successful hits, he pulled away from Nao.

“Let’s break, my hands need a rest,” he said, pulling the mitts off and rubbing them gently.

“Sure,” Nao nodded, punching his fists together. He looked like he’d barely broken a sweat. Victor had to admire his tenacity. He put a lot into this kind of training, that was for sure. Victor grabbed his bottle of water and took a big sip.

“So... Now with just the two of us, I was thinking we could try to get to know each other better,” Victor began. “You know, ask some questions mentor to student.”

“If you’re going to ask about Fight Club...” Nao trailed off and just glared at him. Clearly still a touchy subject.

“No, no!” Victor insisted. “Nothing about that. I promise.”

“Okay then,” Nao leaned against the wall and nodded. “As long as it isn’t that.”

“Well in that case, maybe we can talk about stuff from before the academy?” Victor continued, seeing a potential opening. “Where did you grow up?”

“Uh... I moved a lot.”

“With your family?”

“I don’t have a family.”

“You keep saying that, but you had to have someone surely?”

“I don’t have a family,” Nao repeated, his eyes narrowing at Victor. “Just because you guys have heaps of siblings doesn’t mean I have to.”

“Not even parents? What happened to them?” Victor was even more curious now, given Nao’s reaction. Mu had mentioned he didn’t talk about them, but he didn’t realise he’d be so dismissive of the issue. There was a long pause and stare, before Nao finally responded with a sigh.

“Grew up in an orphanage. Was adopted out from person to person. Never felt at home there. Or anywhere.”

Victor looked on in stunned silence as Nao met his gaze. He had not expected such a flat response from him. Or any response, given Mu’s previous results when asking him. Victor wondered if the incident with Nectar was causing him to be open for a change. Nao had seemed a touch more reflective on his past and behaviour since then, especially in the last week.

“Nao, I’m... I’m sorry,” Victor said genuinely. “I shouldn’t have pried, I-”

“Eh, it’s okay,” Nao just shrugged. “Figures I’d have to talk about it at some point.”

“So no one who took you in ever felt right?”

“No... just... it never felt like I belonged there. It was always temporary. Like I was going to be given back at some point. Or shoved onto someone else.”

“Well what about now? You’ve got your team,” Victor offered, smiling at Nao. As he said this, to his shock, Nao actually pulled away from him. He pulled his boxing gloves off and placed them aside. Victor watched on, waiting patiently for his response. He’d clearly hit a nerve here. An even worse one somehow.

“Already screwed that up, haven’t I?”

“What do you mean?”

“With Mu,” Nao almost shouted, causing Victor to step back. “He hates me, right? And Mana adores him, so she probably doesn’t like me anymore either! And Liadan and Suv and Xav, they will too!”

His volume decreased as he rambled on and on. Victor didn’t say anything, just kept watching him. 

“Soon you’ll hate me too, right?”

“No Nao, I won’t hate you,” Victor said gently. To Nao’s shock, Victor walked forward and pulled him into a hug. Nao did not hug back, but kept rambling. 

“But the others will-”

“The others won’t hate you. They’re your friends. They love how brash and fun you are.”

“But Mu-”

“Mu won’t leave you either,” Victor assured him, gently patting him on the back. He could hear Nao quietly sobbing now. “He’s upset, sure, but he’ll move past that. He’s your friend too.”

The pair stood in silence as Victor continued to hug Nao. Eventually Nao reciprocated the hug, wrapping his arms around Victor and continuing to sob. Victor allowed him to let it out, continuing to pat his back gently. 

“I... I don’t want to lose you guys,” Nao admitted finally. “You’re the closest thing I’ve had to...”

“Oh Nao,” Victor at this point was also crying. “Of course we’re your family. We’re a team now. Please remember that. We love you, no matter what.”

“Victor...” Nao paused, but nodded and pulled away from him, wiping the tears away from his eyes. “Thank you, I’m sorry for dumping that on you.”

“No no! It’s fine!” Victor assured him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Please, I’m your mentor now. If you need to talk about this stuff, I’m here for you, okay?”

“Okay...” Nao nodded again, now smiling. “Should we get back to it?”

“Sounds good,” Victor agreed, walking back to grab his mitts. He looked back to Nao, who seemed to look much more at peace than before. Noticing he was being stared at, Nao asked him something.

“Are you gonna tell Mu about this?”

“Well, probably,” Victor admitted. “I think he’d appreciate hearing you’re upset about what happened. Might help him to move past things.”

Nao took a deep breath as he put his gloves back on, but he nodded.

“Okay. If that’s what you think is best. Now come on! Enough crying, I need to punch something again.”

“Alright then, bring it on,” Victor challenged, taking a steady stance as Nao approached him again. As he began to punch and jab, Victor smiled proudly. Not only at Nao for his openness, but at himself. He’d finally made a huge breakthrough with his mentoring, something he’d been hoping to do since Mu brought him in to help in such dire circumstances. He’d been a bit nervous at first, meeting these strangers. 

Now they were his family, he wouldn’t change anything.

---

“So how do you think their conversations are going?”

Suv watched as Liadan and Xav finished packing their bags of groceries, picking them up and handing some of them off to him. The trio had just finished their shopping, delayed somewhat by the pouring rain as they were not keen for the walk back to the train station. Liadan had decided in order to give their mentors more time, they would head to a shopping centre slightly further away than their regular one. Whilst it still rained outside, the downpour was not as intense as before. So, the team were now ready to head home.

“Well, Nao’s hopefully not trying to punch Victor,” Xav joked, as he opened up a large umbrella they had just purchased. The other two stood close to him as they stepped out from undercover.

“I would highly doubt that,” Liadan rolled her eyes at that notion. 

“Mana’s probably clamming up, same as she normally does,” Xav said, this time more serious. “Nao I’m not sure. Not with everything that’s happened.”

“Well I hope they get some answers,” Suv let out a sigh which caused the other two to look at him with concern.

“You okay?” Liadan asked.

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine,” Suv tried to assure them. “This has just got me thinking about family stuff as well, I guess...”

“Right...” Liadan nodded. “Do you miss yours?”

“Some of them,” Suv said. “Others not so much. You know... Sabien...”

“Ah yes, the douchebag older brother,” Xav noted. “You haven’t given us the full story there.”

“Seems we’re all secretive about our families,” Suv said with a shrug, hoping for the conversation topic to change. He could tell from Xav’s expression that wasn’t happening. 

“Well, we’ve had the pleasure of meeting some of your family,” Liadan directed at Xav. “You and your dear sister.”

“Yeah well I still have my mother,” Xav said. “Faustine sucks, no denying that. But mum is great.”

“Yeah, she just put the pressure of leadership on your shoulders.”

“No!” Xav half shouted, causing Suv to jump back in surprise. Out of the range of the umbrella, he stepped back underneath and shook himself off, accidentally splashing the other two. He gave them an apologetic smile before looking to Xav for him to continue.

“No, she never told us we had to lead,” Xav sighed, a serious look on his face now that Suv knew well. It meant he had thought long and hard about this.

“Oh, so what did she tell you?” Liadan asked, goading him on almost.

“Just that we had to contribute in some way,” Xav explained. “But to Faustine and I, that became a competition. Mother had nothing to do with that. It was all on us.”

“What’s it to you, Liadan?” Suv asked, sensing there was something going on with this line of questioning. “What did your mums tell you?”

“Mine?” Liadan asked, and then much to Suv’s shock, she laughed mockingly. “What did the great Scheherazade and Gladiola Rumm ask of me?”

“You’re clearly hinting at something here,” Xav snarled, and Liadan narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Guys... maybe we shouldn’t-”

“No, it’s okay Suv,” Liadan cut him off with a wave of her hand. “They didn’t care what I chose to, Xav. They were happy with whatever I chose. I just had to be the best at it.”

“So, you’re projecting?”

“So what if I am?!” Uncharacteristic of Liadan, she was snapping at them. “I’m right, and I know it. Your mother asked the same thing of you.”

“No, she didn’t,” Xav just shook his head at her. The trio stood in shocked silence for several moments, unsure of what to say next. Suv had never seen Liadan so frazzled before, and it genuinely worried him to see her in such a state. She was the calm and collected one of the group, and here she was, now nearly in tears over this.

“Xav’s probably right,” Suv said gently, gently touching his shoulder to hers as his hands were currently full from grocery carrying. “You know that.”

“I...” Liadan sniffled and took a deep breath to compose herself. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s okay,” Xav gave her a reassuring smile. “Family can get under your skin, my sister is more than enough proof of that.”

“Sounds like they gave you a rough time,” Suv added. “Your mums I mean.”

“They’re nothing but supportive... but,” Liadan sighed again, “There’s always that pressure there. I know they won’t accept anything less than the best. I know I won’t either. It’s a scary thought...”

“Well it’s a good thing you are the best,” Suv interjected. “The best of us for sure.”

“We’ll vouch for you, no problems there,” Xav joked. “We can go to the courthouse they’re at and swear it.”

Liadan let out a genuine laugh at that which settled the mood between the three of them. They walked for a little longer, before Suv broke the silence again. 

“I left the academy, Poseidon Academy I mean, because I wanted to improve myself. And I couldn’t do that with my brother’s shadow looming over me.”

“Well... from what you’ve said, he sounds like a real dick,” Xav said.

“And you’ve got the right network around you now,” Liadan beamed at him. “I highly doubt he’s learning from 99ers, or has such a good team around him.”

“Actually, he has some of my old friends on his team.”

“Oh...”

“It’s okay,” Suv chuckled at Liadan’s reaction. “They still like me well enough. You’re right though, the resources and friends I’ve made here are what will push me over the edge to break out of that shadow.”

“And one day you will surpass him,” Xav joked. “And become the supreme brother.”

“No! God, I hope not,” Suv whined, and then the trio laughed together. They had finally arrived at the train station. Xav put down the umbrella and they all sat down, the train arriving perfectly on time for them to take a seat on. Placing the groceries on the floor, Suv rested his head on Xav’s shoulder, who begrudgingly allowed it. Liadan, in turn rested hers on his. Sighing in contentment, Suv knew one thing in this moment. He had made the right choice in coming here. He loved, well most of his old family, but he’d found a new one as well. One that loved for who he was. No matter his faults or defects. And judging by Liadan and Xav’s faces as he looked to them, he knew they felt the same.

---

Thirty-two minutes. That was the time that had passed so far as Mana continued to stay silent. Mu continued just checking his phone, waiting for some kind of response. Mana was doing her best not to look at him, only the occasional glance when he shifted. Probably waiting for him to leave. 

Mu, you there?

The mind link, Victor. A welcome distraction.

Yeah, I am. How’s things?

Well, I got Nao to talk. Mu noted that Victor sounded somewhat cheerful, but there was a hint of relief to his voice that was not expected. 

And?

And he doesn’t have anyone. We’re his family now.

Oh.

Mu just sat in stunned silence. Unsure of what to make of that. He glanced at Mana and looked away again when he heard Victor’s voice.

I’ll tell you about it later. You know... he’s really sorry. Really really sorry.

I know Vic.

You should talk to him. Please.

Alright. I will. A promise Mu didn’t vocalise but intended to keep.

How are things with Mana?

She hasn’t said anything in half an hour.

Oh no. I didn’t pick her to be the stubborn one.

Another pause. Mu tensed up slightly as he waited again.

Nao and I are going to do one more session. Are you going to leave? One out of two isn’t too bad-

No. Mu was firm, surprisingly firm in his response. I’ve come this far with it. I’ll keep trying. See you guys when you’re back.

Okay. Good luck.

Mu sat in silence once more, shifting back into his seat and folding his arms. Eyes back on the TV. The news had finished, now there was some reality show on. Dashland’s latest season of The Bachelor. He knew Love would be tuning in to this, he might be finally able to talk to him about it. At least this night wouldn’t have been for nothing then. 

“So... how’s Victor?” Mu blinked a couple of times, stunned that Mana broke the silence. “You kept making faces, like someone was talking to you. Now you’re pouting.”

“I don’t pout,” Mu scoffed. Mana rolled her eyes, and he continued. “He talked to Nao, and Nao told him about his family,” Mu said, as casually as he could with a shrug to go with it. It was Mana’s turn to blink a few times.

“Oh... well good job, I guess? That explains the pouting.”

“We thought Nao would be the tougher one to crack,” Mu admitted. “But damn, I’ve never seen you clam up this hard before. Must be a hell of a story.”

“Yes, well, whatever it is, I’m still not telling.”

“And why not?”

“Because it isn’t relevant.”

Mu had to scoff at that. “Well, clearly it is. Family has a funny habit of forming you, either good or bad.”

“And you’re saying I’m... bad?”

“What- no!” Mu waved his hands in front him. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Look, Mu,” Mana sighed and met his eyes, a serious look now in hers. “I understand why, as mentors, you want to know about this stuff. Most people would have given up at this point.”

“Most people, yeah.”

“So why haven’t you?!”

Mu was taken aback by her shouting again, but also her question. Why did he care? He knew he and Victor were trying to do the right thing as their mentors, Mana was right on that front. It was obvious why he cared though, right?”

“You’re my friend, right? Why wouldn’t I care about something that clearly upsets you so much, and hurts you to talk about?”

Silence fell over the two of them again. Mu just watched her, and to his shock, tears were welling up in her eyes. She quickly brushed them away, as Mu moved to sit closer to her, putting a reassuring arm on her shoulder. Mu just gave her time to compose herself, knowing there was no need to rush this.

“It’s... it’s not even that bad,” Mana took a deep breath and shuddered, trying to get herself together. “I’m being silly.”

“Take your time.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard of the Order of Divine Embers?”

“I...” Mu wracked his brains, but he was no William. “I can’t say I have?”

“Most Dashland viruses wouldn’t have, it’s not a thing here. Where grew up, Storyville, it’s part of one of the major religious groups. Like church soldiers.”

“And?”

“And, if you’d let me finish,” Mana rolled her eyes at Mu’s interjection. At this point, Mu removed his hand from her shoulder. “My dad runs it. He comes from a long line of fire type pokemon, and so does mum. So do my sister and I.”

“But you’re not a fire type.”

“Thanks for stating the obvious.”

“Did, did they want you to be?” Mu was shaking his head at this. He knew that was a bad idea. He had met the Flareon version of Mana, once. It was not an experience he was keen on repeating. She was awful. Not like his Mana, not in the slightest.

“They did,” they both shuddered in unison. “They never got the chance to meet Flareon. Lucky for them, she would have had a few choice words.”

“And punches? And balls of fire?”

“Yeah, probably,” Mana admitted. “In any case, they have the golden child Fi, her husband, also a fire type, their fire type angel of a child, and me the disappointing runt who doesn’t even share their type or powers. A big disappointment for them, as the Order is not too fond of those who don’t carry the flame.”

“Not a legacy you’re interested in carrying,” Mu noted, nodding in understanding. 

“Not at all.”

“Is your sister?”

“Down the line, yes.”

“Well, Mana, thank you for sharing,” Mu grinned at her. “Looks like my mentoring skills are finally improving.”

“Alright, smartass,” Mana jokingly punched his shoulder. “Congrats, you got me to open up about my tragic backstory. Which isn’t even that tragic. You must be so proud.”

“Hey, I worked hard to get you to talk,” Mu chided. “And don’t you feel better for it?”

“You know what? I do,” Mana admitted with a shrug. To Mu’s horror, she then grabbed a notebook and pencil, and looked expectedly at Mu. “Your turn?”

“As if,” Mu rolled his eyes. “I’m the mentor here.”

“But it’s helped me so much,” Mana teased. “I’m a changed woman now. Let me help you. Shall we start from the beginning?”

“No.”

“Boo,” Mana put the notebook aside, and as Mu expected, threw the pencil at him. He didn’t try to dodge it, just accepted it hitting him as per the norm. The two turned back to the TV. A warm hand took Mu’s, he turned to Mana, slightly shocked. 

“Mm?”

“Thank you,” was all she said, and she squeezed his hand in appreciation. Mu gave it a gentle squeeze back as the continued watching the show. In the end, they held hands through the entirety of the show. 

[mst3kproject]

802: The Leech Woman – Part III

I’ve devoted a review to the terrible characters in The Leech Woman and another to its nasty misogynistic ‘message’, what’s left?  As it turns out, plenty.  The next layer down in our Leech Woman Tira Misu of badness has several ingredients that just wouldn’t fit with the themes of either of the previous installments.

The script frequently feels a need to explain what’s happening on screen, which is sometimes helpful but equally often kind of insulting, since characters are telling us things we can clearly see for ourselves.  A Nando dude has his face pushed into a pot of misty stuff and is then dragged stumbling over to the sacrificial block, and David declares “he’s drugged!” as if we wouldn’t be able to tell.  Moments later, the man’s pineal gland is carved out – this does require some narration, since the visuals aren’t self-explanatory, but the “he’s adding the pineal hormone to the Naipi” a moment later really doesn’t need to be there.

The intense use of stock footage is also a form of this.  We know that the characters are going to Africa, and we see them hiring a guide and tramping through a jungly-looking set, only to also be shown reams of animal stock footage that has basically nothing to do with the story.  The only time it has any bearing on the plot is with the leopard that supposedly follows June.  The rest is padding, there to emphasize (as Crow observes) that we are definitely in Africa, as if the audience couldn’t already tell.

A few bits in this part of the movie are shot outside, pretty clearly in California rather than anywhere near Africa.  Others are obviously in ‘jungle’ studio sets, and you can really feel how closed-in and artificial these spaces are, especially when contrasted with the wide-open savannahs and broad skies in the stock footage.  I guess I can say in the movie’s favour that it looks more jungle-ish than Jungle Moon Men did, but there are places in Canada that look more jungle-ish than that, so it’s not really saying very much.

The most egregious use of stock footage in The Leech Woman is in the Nando village, where we see some shots of people dancing in Real Africa before cutting back to extras in Hollywood Africa.  The two sets of footage look nothing alike.  The people in the documentary shots are dancing in a practiced, purposeful fashion.  The ones in the stuff filmed for The Leech Woman are just kind of flailing and bouncing.  The juxtaposition is kind of like splicing shots of trained ballroom dancers in with video of the junior prom and pretending it was all part of the same scene. This extends to the costumes, with the ‘real’ dancers wearing elaborate ceremonial beadwork and the actors in crummy kilts and geographically inappropriate tiger skins.  The latter still look nothing like the shower curtain Malla’s wearing when she reappears.  The only costume that had effort put into it is that ridiculous tusk headdress the high priest wears.

The Nando themselves are a plot device, rather than a people. They are Privy To Wisdom the White Man Hath Forgotten, but they’re also very much superstitious savages, with their regular human sacrifices and habit of killing anybody who tries to talk to them. None of them have lines and except for Malla and the high priest they are basically indistinguishable from each other – this keeps us from feeling sorry for them when their village gets blown up.  The only ones we see up very close are Malla, whom we will soon learn is planning to kill the heroes, and the priest, whose face is hidden.  They are dehumanized and, with their job of introducing June to the Cure for Old done, they are dismissed.

That would be pretty standard for a fifties jungle movie, but there’s one rather out-of-place bit that seems to be there just as gratuitous racism.  When David goes back for the dynamite, under the pretense of giving Malla a necklace, one of his guards takes a moment to steal some of June’s other jewelry from the luggage.  Why?  What value does it have to these people who live in the middle of nowhere and don’t appear to trade with the outside world? The event never has any impact on the plot, even though June later uses jewelry to entice her victims… come to think of it, why did she have that stuff with her on a safari anyway?  If this isn’t just a throwaway moment of lol, black people are thieves, it seems to just be a little reminder that the Nando cannot be trusted and that we shouldn’t worry about David blowing them up. Doesn’t quite work when he also steals their stuff on the way out, does it?

And of course, the ending sucks.  Rather than facing any sort of consequences for her crimes, June simply throws herself out the window, leaving Sally dead in the closet and Neil and the police wondering what the hell just happened.  The withered corpse we see under the window is obviously a mannequin, and doesn’t even look like June.  And as with far too many movies of this vintage, there is no denouement. We don’t know if Neil ever understands that June and ‘Terri’ were the same person, or why Sally was killed.  We don’t see him realize what he’s lost by allowing himself to be dragged around by the dick.  The movie just ends.  They couldn’t have spent two minutes on that instead of on random animal footage?

After going through all the many ways in which The Leech Woman is a terrible and frequently offensive movie, how it hates men, women, black people, white people, and anybody stupid enough to watch it, I guess it needs to be asked: why do I enjoy it so much?  I think partly it is because it’s so non-denominationally misanthropic – it hates everybody, and while it saves special venom for unattractive women, nobody else comes off well, either. Another, as previously mentioned, is how it doesn’t bother to have any ‘good’ characters.  The protagonist of the movie, as in the person through whose eyes we watch it and whose arc we follow, is June – and she’s an insane, selfish murderess!

I do tend to like movies that focus on a villain’s journey.  There’s Lady Frankenstein, for example, in which Tanya Frankenstein carries the whole movie despite the fact that she’s evil to the core, and in the end is destroyed by her own creature as he realizes that he, like everything else around her, is just a tool she’s using to further her own sense of self-importance.  There’s the similarly-titled Countess Dracula, which is what you might get if you imagine a version of The Leech Woman that actually tries to convince you Neil is the hero but still doesn’t have him actually do anything. And there are Hammer’s Frankenstein movies, which are all about Peter Cushing’s Victor Frankenstein with the inconsequential ‘heroes’ simply revolving around him.

Why are these characters so much more interesting than the heroes who are trying to defeat them?  I think it has to do with the fact that these villains are proactive – they are taking steps to go out and get what they want.  Victor Frankenstein wants to prove his latest theory, June wants to watch men fall at her feet when she smiles at them, and they both believe the means justify the ends.  The ‘good guys’ of the movie, on the other hand, are merely reacting to the evil plot they’ve discovered.  In light of that, it’s also interesting to ask why it’s so often women who take center stage in this kind of movie: as well as June, I’ve mentioned two examples in the previous paragraph, with Tanya Frankenstein and Countess Elizabeth. This is probably because women in movies of this era are not supposed to be proactive in getting what they want, or even to have wants at all besides to kiss the guy at the end.

This type of movie also suggests that evil, being intrinsically selfish, will ultimately destroy itself.  The good characters, where they exist, are victims or completely irrelevant – the closest things The Leech Woman has to ‘good guys’ are Neil and the detective, the former being helplessly in June’s thrall and the latter not even showing up until the movie’s almost over and then having his job done for him by her suicide.  Since these characters don’t try to do anything about their situations (Neil doesn’t even realize he’s in one), they’re not at all interesting, and the villains command the movie all the more.  This would lead one to think that the ‘message’ of the movie is the same as the one I pulled out of Outlaw, that bad things will just go away if you wait long enough.

In some cases that’s probably true (it’s going to work for the Earth – us humans will kill ourselves off soon and the rest of the biosphere can get back to business), but The Leech Woman also serves to emphasize that letting evil destroy itself will cause far more damage than if somebody tackled the problem before it got that far.  If Neil had actually cared that ‘Terri’ was destroying his relationship with Sally and tried to leave her, he might have saved himself a lot of trouble.  In fact, what would have happened then?  Would June have gone off to find another victim, or would she have become more aggressive in her pursuit of him in particular?  Would he have maybe cottoned on to what was happening and come back to save her next boyfriend from suffering a terrible fate? Oh, hey, look – I just wrote a better movie in three sentences, again.

I think that’s about as much Leech Woman as I can take.  See you next week – I don’t actually have that many more of these to do, do I? Thank you all for hanging in there with me.  We’re on the home stretch now!

[theartoflovingthomashunt]

Telling Thomas

**** This is Part Two of Two, Part One can be found here.

Masterlists: [Hollywood U] || [Red Carpet Diaries]  || [Baby Hunt]  || [Love & Scotch HWU/OH ]  ||  [#HollywoodHacks HWU/LH]

Characters: Alex (MC), Thomas Hunt, Chazz

Setting: The day after the secret party for The Duchess in RCD book 2, Alex is nervous about telling Thomas that she wants more than just last night’s hook up.

Rating: PG

------

“Alex, I trust you but, are you sure you need to do all of this?” Chazz asked, after hearing Alex’s elaborate plan. “Wouldn’t it be easier to go back to his house and just talk to him? Sure, Thomas is a bit ... particular about things, but–”

“I need to know if he feels the same way, I do,” Alex interrupted. “Can you see Thomas Hunt being emotive in a normal conversation?”

“No, you’re probably right,” Chazz replied. He smiled at her determination and commitment. He could tell she really cared about him.

“What’s that for?” Alex questioned.

“Nothing... Just, I hope it works out for you!” Chazz kissed Alex’s cheek. “I’ve got to go. I’ll drop your letter off for you.”

“Thanks, Chazz.” She read the note once more before giving it to him.

Meet at the Old LA Zoo at 10. -A 

P.S. I’ll understand if you choose differently

Later that evening...

Thomas walked around the entrance of the Old LA Zoo at Griffith Park. “As an illustrious woman once said, ‘You're the one who told me to be here...come out where I can see you!’"

Alex smiled, walking toward the fence that separated the park from the zoo. “You came.”

“You left,” Thomas noted with an unreadable expression on his face. He walked closer toward her until they were standing mere inches apart, separated only by the fence. 

“I know,” she whispered, looking away from him momentarily.

“What am I doing here, Alex?” 

“Do you want to come in?” Alex asked though she didn’t wait for his answer before walking further down the fence line. He followed as she pushed the fence out, creating an opening for him to sneak through. “Crash told Chazz about this... Chazz told me.”

“Come with me,” Alex suggested. Thomas’s face remained unchanged. This is why she needed this plan. She hoped it would keep Thomas busy focusing on the details long enough to let his guard down. Show her some sign that she wasn’t crazy for risking everything for him.

She guided him through the zoo and sat on a picnic bench outside the carousel building. A few lights nearby were turned on. Thomas looked around hesitantly. “Don’t worry about the lights, we’re alone. No cameras either. Crash said he would take care of it.”

He nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on her.

Alex looked away. “I know you like quiet places that are away from the busyness of the city. And, you told me you liked the night because it had more character... and that it was dangerous.” She looked back at him, his eyes still trained on her. 

“I’m not blind, Alex. The note, the secluded location, the mystery,” he started, his brow quirking up. “I know what they mean to me, to us. What I don’t know is why?”

She continued, not answering his question, “When you first told me about The Last Duchess...You said that it was dangerous for Francis because every decision she made could change her fate forever. I feel like that’s where I am right now.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but Alex continued, “Just let me finish, I promise I have a point. ” He nodded giving her some space.

“Last night, I... I don’t do that. That’s not me. I’ve never done anything like that before, with anyone since I got here. You’re dangerous for me, Thomas.”

"I understand,” he said reluctantly. “I let my baser desires overwhelm my better judgment. I regret that you feel this way. I promise I won’t let it happen again.”

“Thomas, you don’t get it,” she sighed, overwhelmed by her flooding emotions. “I don’t regret it. It was... you were..." she bit her lower lip, reminding herself again that she had a point to make. “When I came out here, I was focused on only one thing–my career. Then, after the success of Tender Nothings, things picked up so quickly. I thought maybe I could make meaningful connections, but then I was forced in a fake relationship with Chadley... Then, Victor.” Thomas reached across the table and put his hands on top of hers. His touch was electric causing her skin to prickle under it.

“You supported me and took a chance on me when no one else would. You believed in me. I didn’t expect last night to happen. I don’t regret it, but I fear what you must think of me now. I want you, Thomas but, I want all of you. Not just your body.” Alex let her hand caress Thomas’ fingers then let them dance up his forearm. “I want to know you, all of you, your mind, your soul, your...heart. You're my danger, Thomas. You’re different and that scares me, because I don’t know what will happen, but I don’t care. You’re worth the risk. I want to go to dinner with you. I want to call you when I have a good day or a bad day. I want to drink coffee with you at some hole in the wall bistro that feels like a place out of time. I want to explore all of the secret speakeasies this town has to offer. I want more than just last night. I want to get to know you and be with you–every part of you. I can’t breathe when you’re around and obviously, I can’t speak either....”

“Okay, I’m done,” she pulled her hand back. “That’s all I had to say.”

"Can I talk now,” Thomas questioned, his face unchanged. she nodded. “I will be succinct, as I believe you used enough words for the both of us. Why do all of this?”

“You confound me, Thomas,” Alex admitted. “I hoped that if I played your game, you’d be easier to read. But, I look at you and I don’t know what you are thinking. You are a mystery that I desperately want to unravel.”

“Alex, do you have any idea how intoxicating you are to me?” Thomas smiled. “I know I’m not the most expressive or amorous man. I can’t imagine why you would go through all of this for me. I never let myself hope that you could feel like this. Nonetheless, I want you, as well. I don’t know how to express how happy you make me.”

“Are you sure?” Alex asked, her eyes filled with hope for the first time all day. 

Thomas nodded, “Frankly I’ve never been more certain about anything. How can I allay your fears?”

 “A kiss might help.” She shrugged playfully. 

Thomas walked around to the other side of the picnic table and pulled Alex to her feet. His arms wrapped around her waist guiding her into him. His lips hovered over hers momentarily savoring her quickened breathing before softly landing on hers. Her arms snaked around his neck as she leaned deeper into him. He tasted sweet, like blackberry and caramel. She couldn’t get enough of him. Her hands wandered his back and chest.

After a few moments, Thomas broke away. “Maybe we should...”

“... slow down,” Alex laughed.

“Precisely,” he kissed her forehead and held her in his arms.

“You taste like Port,” she whispered into his ear as her head rested on his shoulder.

“Undoubtedly,” Thomas smiled. “It’s Tuesday.”

"How could I forget!” Alex grinned. She ran her hand down his arm, relishing how he trembled at her touch. She entwined her fingers in his and led him out of the park.

“Can I take you home,” Thomas offered.

Alex nodded.

When their car arrived, Alex snuggled into Thomas’s arms in the back seat. He held her close, breathing in the wooded scent of the park mixed with her vanilla shampoo. It was the sweetest scent in the world and now it was his. He smiled, unsure of what the future would hold...their future.

---

Thomas Hunt Tags: @hopelessromantic1352 ; @alleksa16 ; @pinkcoloredmarshmallow

[ducksbellorum]

the flower and the flame (listen/download)

 a gale hawthorne/peeta mellark mix - the hunger games fandom - arranged by ducksbellorum

Kiss With A Fist Florence + the Machine Blood sticks, sweat drips Break the lock if it don’t fit A kick in the teeth is good for some A kiss with a fist is better than none There’s always been tension between Peeta and Gale. No one really knows why: maybe jealousy, maybe a weird sort of affection, maybe they sense they’re both fond of the same girl. Even they aren’t sure, but their fights are a fact of life, a universal constant that’s always been. Their mutual grievance manifests in everything from the all-out tussles when they were small to sniping comments now that they’re grown. Gale doesn’t like Peeta. Peeta doesn’t like Gale. It’s akin to pulling the pigtails of the girl you like, but neither realize it.

Live It Out Metric Look at you, I know I’m already dead No concrete adversity Only traps of our own actions How we wanted it to be When Peeta leaves for the Hunger Games, it’s like a death sentence. It doesn’t hit him at first, but one night on the train he realizes that he’s pretty much already dead. So is Katniss too, if he’s really honest. His life wasn’t supposed to go like this, he wants to scream. But strangely, instead of himself or the girl in the next room, the person Peeta’s thinking about most is Gale. Gale, living the rest of his life in the coal mines, doing normal District 12 things. Like Peeta was meant to do. He wonders if Gale will remember him.

Intro xx Instrumental Gale doesn’t like Peeta. Peeta doesn’t like Gale. The Games didn’t change that. Except maybe they did. Maybe one day Gale finds his way over to Peeta’s house in Victor’s Village and doesn’t leave. Maybe they start talking, about the government, about the weather, about Katniss. Mostly about Katniss, the one thing they really have in common. Maybe it becomes a ritual: six days a week shalt Gale labor, and on the seventh day Gale visits Katniss and on the seventh night he sits with Peeta. And eventually they might realize that they really don’t mind each other’s company anymore.

Never Fall in Love Emilie Simon I am a flower And I hurt your hands Don’t say you love Don’t say you care Gale and Peeta have always been vastly different people. Gale is a fighter, a flare, a rebel to the bone. Peeta had always been a lover and a talker, more of a flower than any sort of fire. The Games changed that as well. Now instead of an innocent dandelion, Peeta’s changed into a rose with long and deadly thorns. This makes he and Gale more alike than either wants to admit. They won’t even admit that they’re friends yet. They can’t be friends, it’s not possible. And they certainly can’t be anything more. Not the flower and the flame.

Hands Open Snow Patrol It’s hard to argue when you won’t stop making sense But my tongue still misbehaves and it keeps digging my own grave Even their political views are different. Gale’s always wanted to go, to fight, to shoot up all the things and take back their freedom from the Capitol. Peeta’s quieter, diplomatic, more in favor of a peaceful approach. They argue about it a lot, but each has to acknowledge that the other makes a lot of sense. A year ago, before the Games, they wouldn’t have even listened to each other. But now there was respect and mutual admiration and maybe maybe some sort of affection. Neither is sure what it is. But they both know they want more of it.

The Walk Imogen Heap No it’s not meant to be like this. Not what I planned at all. I don’t want to feel like this. So that makes it all your fault The kiss comes out of nowhere, somewhere between ‘come inside’ and 'do you want tea’. It’s quick, over in an eyeblink, and it takes a minute for their brains to catch up with their lips. But then it does and…

Gale: “I have to go.”

Peeta, a hand on his arm: “Wait.”

They stare at each other for a long minute. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Gale says finally. “I don’t even like you.”

“I love Katniss. You love Katniss. We fight over Katniss. We don’t…”

“I guess we do.”

Another cavernous silence.

“Yeah, I guess we do.”

Sort Of Ingrid Michaelson And if I was stronger then I would tell you no And if I was stronger then I would leave this show And if I was stronger then I would up and go But here I am, and here we go again It goes slow from there. It’s like feeling their way through foreign territory, not knowing what to feel or how much to feel or if they felt anything at all. They continue to see Katniss independently of each other and after visiting her there’s always a short discussion along the lines of: “We can’t anymore. It’s Katniss. It’s always been Katniss. Stay away from me and stay away from her.” But it never lasts. Peeta says once, “If I were smarter or stronger, I’d tell you no and mean it.”

“Do you want to?” Gale asks.

Peeta never hesitates. “No.”

Ashamed Muse There’s always something that makes you guilty There’s still something that you’re dying to tell me Make sure no one finds out Tell me all about it Gale’s sure, and Peeta tells him, that in the Capitol and the other districts men can love men just as well as they love women. But Gale’s a country boy with country values. He’s not nearly as sanguine about the whole relationship with Peeta thing as Peeta is. He doesn’t know whether it’s right or wrong in the end, or how to justify his feelings with his fundamental upbringing. Sometimes he feels ashamed of Peeta, of what they’re doing, and then he feels guilty about feeling guilty. Nothing is simple and nothing is easy. But Peeta understands. Somehow Peeta always understands.

Warning Sign Coldplay I’ve gotta tell you what a state I’m in I’ve gotta tell you in my loudest tones That I started looking for a warning sign When the truth is, I miss you They’ve always known that anything they have together can’t last. The Capitol will eventually come in and screw everything over. Sure enough, when the Quarter Quell rolls around, they do. Katniss and Peeta are back to being lovers, back to fighting in the Games, and likely not coming back alive. It puts a strain on all of them, but especially the boys. Their tempers run short and they say things to each other that they never mean. Gale says he misses Peeta. Peeta says he’s still here, but they both know it’s not as true as it used to be.

Under the Sheets Ellie Goulding Where did the people go? My hands are empty You’re not the answer I should know Like all the boys before, like all the boys before Peeta’s a prisoner in the Capitol and all he sees on television is the girl on fire and the rebellion ruining the Capitol’s peace. They’ve put something in his veins and Katniss is all mixed up with terrible thoughts that don’t belong with her or do they. He’s not sure. But Katniss isn’t a good thought. He tries to focus on Gale then, on all the things Gale had told him about revolution and about love and the way Gale made him feel safe. But the idea of Gale gets twisted too and soon Gale isn’t a good thought either.

Love Lockdown Kanye West I’m not lovin’ you the way I wanted to Where I wanna go, I don’t need you I’ve been down this road, too many times before I’m not lovin’ you the way I wanted to Loving Peeta is ridiculous because Peeta is a traitor and Peeta is against everything Gale stands for. Plus there’s Katniss to consider. Gale doesn’t need Peeta, not emotionally or physically or anything. Certainly having any affection for Peeta is bad for his reputation, being as Gale’s the badass rebel soldier and Peeta’s a drugged-up, traitorous timebomb. That’s what he has to tell everyone else, and even himself.

Yet no matter how often he does this, Gale can’t help worrying about the boy and wanting him back. Yeah, so maybe it makes no sense. But that’s just the way it is.

Edge of Desire John Mayer Don’t say a word, just come over and lie here with me 'Cause I’m just about to set fire to everything I see I want you so bad, I’ll go back on the things I believe There I just said it, I’m scared you’ll forget about me Peeta can see Gale through the observation window of his hospital room. He can see the other boy staring in at him, never speaking, never moving, even when Peeta waves hello. Peeta still can’t remember everything right. He can’t remember why he hates Katniss so much, and he can’t remember anything about Gale. He just has a feeling that Gale was safe, that he could trust Gale. Peeta thought if only Gale would tell him what was right, he’d know. Gale never comes. Gale’s afraid to come, but Peeta can’t know that. All Peeta knows is that something is wrong.

2 Atoms in a Molecule Noah and the Whale Held together, holding each other With no one else in mind Like two atoms in a molecule Inseparably combined After everything is said and done and the rebellion is become the government, they talk again. There’s a lot of yelling and lot of accusation. Gale trying to justify the things Peeta has done and Peeta trying to reconcile his actions and Gale’s actions and both of them trying not to say I missed you. But after all the screaming, Peeta says softly, “I dreamed of you.” Gale tells him that it can’t be the way that it was. They both understand. But as they stand there looking at each other, they understand that maybe they could rebuild something better.

Fragment Trespassers William The only thing cautious now’s My hand not to break you I cannot promise any of the things I want to But I could not want this any fragment more than I do They build it up again. It’s slower this time, and less sure, but they do it. Before, Peeta had made promises and Gale had made plans and they’d dreamed together. But they were old now and the time for dreaming was long past. Peeta had Katniss and the children and Gale had his work in the new government. They didn’t see very much of each other. But they met as often as they could, just to talk, like old times. And yet, not like the old times at all. They could never love like that again. But they could remember.

Bonus: Dare You To Move Switchfoot Maybe redemption has stories to tell Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell Where can you run to escape from yourself? Where you gonna go? Gale and Peeta have a tradition when they’re together. They do shots and confess sins. It’s more comfortable than confessing to a priest and forgiveness is guaranteed. Plus you can drown your sorrows in Haymitch’s very best rotgut. Sometimes it gets silly, pranks and jokes and little things. But more often their sessions are serious. Gale remembering the bomb he’d designed consuming Katniss’ sister and Peeta reliving the death of everyone he’d killed in the Arena. They drink in silence. They can’t forgive themselves. But they can forgive each other, and maybe one day together they can start to heal.